5

'nightskysilver'


what happened        in january, slinky-eyed
devastation         mere recompense       for
shadows: silk          frayed           scattered


—a full moon        in yellow ink,              an
infant's       gurgle       at stars        and yet   
this evening                     turns to morning  
all                                                   too—   


sunbeam           burst            quicksilverine
floating                                            lotus
at dawn                                   shiver   ing
empty                  full              this canopy  
                                                 of pearls



'bright blues versus semen-soluble blankets'


you're off bowling tonight.

i know this
because i rang,
entirely tits up
from too many beers
and a few after-work joints.

tomorrow, i'll go see
some elitist four chord playing
indie band. i'll peer at university delinquents
enthralled at the idea of music being their only saviour
against the crush of this. all of this.

it's become one endless transaction to me.
it's become sucking up to the boss, enquiring
what i may do next to climb the dollar ladder.
i'm this and that and fully a go-get'em tiger.
hear me growl. hear me acknowledge
a superior order.

meow is all i am right now. static
is what this city thrives on. static
and faded goodnights. static
and unwashed semen-covered blankets.

a selfish f**k. a free love romp. another angle
to this big bang theory prescribed by scientists.

i often will these days to turn into meteorite showers.
flash floods. earthquakes to level these mountains
into boulders. for arctic terns to visit my corner.
to tell me what they know of thermals and bright blues
and the red of sunsets beyond drying tundra.
hunt for all of this with me. paint each ceiling
with exclamations picked out from the oxford dictionary.
become another byron and swim an impossible channel.
survive. but surrender. glide. but drown
in the inferno.

you're off bowling tonight. and here,
i am warm and sleepy and finding the eternal.



'lignum'


      you're
tired of stillness,
my benediction for you.
a crumpled
                note
left beneath your door.
           a whisper
beyond letterboxes.
     the gaze of heavenly
                  disorder



'discotechconnect'


[+]

oh, you

and the assorted flavour
of delinquency. a threshold of spin
and glib replies pertaining

to causality. the rebound effect.
mothers crooning lullabies beside a fire:
maternal, devoted,

the eternal
madonna.


[-]

i keep mementoes

on my shelf: a red plastic hairband. two flutes
from bali i like to stare at. bleached coral,
once pink, but dirty white. coins from

different lands, a testament to this global city.
of consumer data. the longevity of the japanese
and why it's good to eat fish

and burp loudly
after dinner.


[=]

do the hula

in hawaii. gorge on caviar in russia.
the mafia there are ex-kgb given over
to the high-roller life. so, swap weapons

for heroin. pay botnet-herders with promises
of east european girls. it's all sex and candy.
blowjobs below the professor's desk.

i have a hard time just knowing
what i'll eat. 



'a poem is'


a poem
is that silence
between
heartbeats
between fingers
crushed together
with sweat
and denial
and different
shades
of fortune
beckoning
with

a stone fist.

a beatific hermit
sits upon its thumb
face warm and
windswept:
an open robe
and pages falling
out from his
teeth.

a poem is found
in smoke and silence
raindrops and fire
becoming steam
and vision
widening.

open
dream
soma
blurry

focus.
 

Reviews

[Ama May Cooper]

You are one of a kind. An enthralling read, its like watching a tennis match on tv, not quite sure where the ball will land or even if it will or if the ball will swing back and if it will be out.
Intreging all the twists and turn this poem takes, allowing in places a very deep look into mind, i like it alot very good, i shall make sure to watch you in teh future

[Emily B]

it's been too long since I read your words

I'll have to make it a point to stop by more often

[Vanessa Whiteley]

A Poem by ~smoky~ocean~tendrils~ {or J} Hmm is this a take on the artist formerly known as...
Long time no read and then all this together. What really jumps out of the page at me is

i often will these days to turn into meteorite showers.
flash floods. earthquakes to level these mountains
into boulders. for arctic terns to visit my corner.
to tell me what they know of thermals and bright blues
and the red of sunsets beyond drying tundra.
hunt for all of this with me. paint each ceiling
with exclamations picked out from the oxford dictionary.
become another byron and swim an impossible channel.
survive. but surrender. glide. but drown
in the inferno.

but you are always a joy to read.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Still deciding if the first one was meant to read vertically or horizontally, I like both ways though.

[Lori]

Wow! This really floored me. I like that you use visual, particularly in the opening poem. So much of modern poetry is read, so when you have the ability to get the readers sigh sense involved with the hearing it adds to the experience. In the second poem, I really like this glimpse at modern life -- there's so much happening and yet it all seems outside of us. We don't actually experience it. We just get the angst. It's like the feelings of the cutters of the world, who just want to make their internal strife real -- except here we want to show societal woes. I really love the last poem - "a poem is". It captures the magic, the duende, the indescribable. I can't wait to read more of your poetry.

[AG]

contemporary avant garde and very brave.

the over-all distortion of this piece simply amplifies the artistic value of everything. this is a work so well-crafted even in its very psychotic nature.

love the ending. a downward slope then a swift yet powerful blow at the end.

[Hedra Helix]

you are unlike anyone.

i often will these days to turn into meteorite showers.
flash floods. earthquakes to level these mountains
into boulders. for arctic terns to visit my corner.
to tell me what they know of thermals and bright blues
and the red of sunsets beyond drying tundra.
hunt for all of this with me. paint each ceiling
with exclamations picked out from the oxford dictionary.
become another byron and swim an impossible channel.
survive. but surrender. glide. but drown
in the inferno.

you're off bowling tonight. and here,
i am warm and sleepy and finding the eternal.


quality quality baby, I only come here to sip on quality. siiiip.

[zig]

all of these were awesome, i liked 'bright blues versus semen-soluble blankets' best, just had great flow and voice... plus im always a sucker for the longer poems. great stuff j, talk to ya later

zig

[Emily B]

I like what you've done with Bright blues versus . . .

But my favorite of this bunch is probably "A Poem Is" . . . tomorrow it may be something else entirely.