undernmete

my digits are gods – my left pinkie’s neptune, right ring finger hera, middle left the elohim, index right ame-no-uzume-no-mikoto, right toe odin, left index düza minkar, right foot pinkie chuang tzu, left foot middle the emilies dickinson and bronte … when i type and walk the eternal energies of the cosmos spell their mysteries in codes my mindless body intuits, my bodiless mind recoils from.

the city is a code.  rising above the white dead in architectural smog, ciphers of bones.  i read the city the way i read old gravestones – hints of life and the laughter of forgotten details.

truth entered my urethra in september and hasn’t left.  got permission from the permission-givers to enter me.  every now and then pain in some new hades of my flesh and i laugh the laughs of the unknown dead.

the city tells me this.  it is quiet, like a dead lover.  it consumes me like forbidden copulations.  who else can be my muse these tablet days, unbroken, unread, but slaughtered angels of petulant skyscrapers, white worms of the gutted dreams of the non-existent.

christ skips softly on the tips of burnt christmas trees, rejoicing for nothing, eating cats as if they were chocolates, all the marys of time giggling in his dirty anus.  oh love that never ends – the love of dictionaries, the eternity of being saved.

i see you you filthy fool rolling in the mud of yourself in the avenues of time as if you were a pig of your imagination.  i tell you – pigs are saints next to you, cows are our mentors.  you dried dog diarrhea dangling from the ears of pedophiles in poltergeists of blood.  how you love the dirty smells of your prehistoric routines.

laugh, apparitions of glory!  laugh until your organs sing in suffering.  create symphonies of shit dearest concert meisters.  your tears and sex juice are the rhymes of a new and untold age.