( )

moon all mine,
for a moment

isis

i
is
iss
liss
bliss
blissis
blissisbliss
blissisblissisbliss
blissisblissisblissisbliss
blissisblissisbliss
blissisbliss
blissis
bliss
liss
iss
is
i
is
iss
liss
bliss
blissis
blissisbliss
blissisblissisbliss
blissisblissisblissisbliss
blissisblissisbliss
blissisbliss
blissis
bliss
liss
iss
is
i

This Is Visual Poetry

A chapbook of mine available in Dan Waber's excellent series this is visual poetry.

She-lagh

Black Astro Dazzle (Mike Cannell as the Universe's First Sentient Being)

Black Astro Dazzle 2

Black Astro Dazzle 3

Gorilla

Fig Tingle

Those reckless spendthrifts throwing air with frozen twig fingers, breaking a girl in the middle of the photograph. By some miracle of light, the streets, sacred entertainers, examined the hot dance her wild and reap a winter. So the dress between my harvest fuelled in supernatural glory, rolling her drunken eyes, angry and venturing to love us. Someone took I wanted her, flung my arms reflected inside, "You're not Amy!", the most beautiful girl, shaped to the flesh, becoming cold and vile after a raid.

Winter Angels

a-hay-yah

Ghost Horseshit Apocalypse

Java Parallel (The Beginning of a Projected Novella)

Surrounded by volcanoes spewing noxious fumes into a crystalline sky, temple complexes devoted to monkey gods, elephant gods, original flying buddhas; on a gamelan island, in a bracelet of islands, between two oceans, between the rising and the setting of the awful sun - what do I do? Me, what do I do? Haunted by spirits of ancient tree dwellers, terrace cutters, puppet dancers; spirits in smoke, in shadow, in rice fields and rivers and tumbling waterfalls - me, what do I do?

Sometimes I am gripped by nostalgia. When I pass the little bars full of revellers, when I see travellers from distant lands moving dreamily through the markets, when I wake in the afternoon to the sounds of honking horns and roaring engines, and the rapid confusion of the moment evaporates into empty space leaving me face to face with a hard, forbidding reality which threatens to crunch me into dust and rubble, my stomach churns and my mind reels and my heart bubbles with a want for what has long since past me by. If I reach forty it will be a miracle.

Me, what do I do?

Perhaps the winding alleys lead to a temple where I can finally rest. Perhaps if I give myself over to my obsessions completely, lose myself in the vibrant daydreams which well up from my heart while the gamelan sounds relentlessly, relentlessly, perhaps then I will find a paradise that is more than just a momentary figment, an illusion of song and smoke.

Reach Right Round and Rummage

h(oo)p

*

endless list

listless lust

lost lust, less than last

less list than lust, last

leastly,

lust

*

deliqious

*

gold, gall, gold, gall, all, gill, gel

*

poignangcy

*

repair or appear to pare or peer

*

l(amen)t

Weird Networking

renew climax
of Mongolia

dockets
areas

his grieg
the sweetster

gals wassails

cashman prescribed

miscalls of jacobi to
rivas air

prism associations

Subliminimalism

so

only

so

Flit Higher, Eye