wise mantis says

shit
or
get
off
the
pot

son of Tolomai for short

infinite rumble
and infinite rustling
as cackling crows
spit upon evaporated candy covered cement
fumes clustered

cloudy up porcelain eyes
paper machete blunder
thunder crackling
teeth chatter
s'pose knock'around systems install
you be pinball'd
once the ink spell casts
the math, after

yet a frog
still a paperclip
did memorize that rip in time
so flipped back
hypnotized by infancy divine

an owl told her...

fire ants from a fire hose
&
red and yellow skin equals orange you glad we met
&
vitamin ray 12
&
our pet is
mickey the denture dog
&
too much candy is bad for you

a flowering spade

gotta peel back the onion inside
because what else is there

scratch napkins and street priests

caterpillar armor blunder mindbend matter
pander to the judges
clutter masterpiece and faster pleads
and tangled feeds
clamoring clams invoking therapy group remedies
shall i weather the storm
with an elevator pitch.... stains on armpit crevices
and empress pets in cavalcades
parading on their knees
free merits
dressed recollections of streetlight power trips
and invincibility quip
hyped level breaking it down
for the revelry
and irony on the revolutionary tip

simulacra cooperative

by way of solitude and liquor
stained in umber, i've derived a
curious idea, of which my ego
will proclaim is this...original
and worth necessary funding.

a cachet of scenarios,
comprised of willing individuals
generous of time and spirit,
contributing to isolated
simulations that applaud
specific methods,
be it cliche or unordinary,
to elicit an emotional state
for the test protagonist:

for this protagonist,
participants will conduct
themselves in a prescripted
set of behaviors in tandem and fashion,
such that the emotional state
advertised to this protagonist
may be sold,
temporary through variable lengths.

ie: praise

participants cheer for protagonist
in a predetermined set of behaviors,
under focused set of variables.

could call it art
and may be worth investigating

master jellyfish

i see a sea
and it sees me
it reflects what i see
and it sees what i see
and we never look
because
we see
we

rig o medio

loiter

half shadowed shoe
born tailspin

baggy eyed spirit
residue

residue

right before the fog
incinerates

clap
wave mesmerize
like
punctured pride pump
and squeak garnish
nickel operated
shoe buffer times
centipede hips thrust

repeat with fabric softener
and powered cuckoo clock
beneath the iceberg

who tethered ice chains
to the port
might no mercury applaud
our impulses

hiromi euhara trio

(co narrated by the penguin & the otter pup
on pad and pen off Jack Keruac Avenue)

Spud met Angela at the bar by her school.

He had his high tops on and was lookin'
so, so fly.

Though in her eyes it wasn't the case.
He was twitterpated to see her...
taking notice of her hair, the way
she leaned slightly to the right on her
barstool and how her friends were
well engaged in the conversation.

He felt a twinge of anxiety; but dove
right in. What else can you do in such
a situation? Take a breath, Spud.

They exchanged formalities, which
quickly led to a visit to the bartender.
He ruminated on the comings and goings
of her day, and how it unfolded, if she was
at all thinking of him. Previous to this visit,
he contemplated on how to go about the
evening's maneuvers.

And she was thinking of him, truth be told,
wondering about what he was up to and
what might happen that night. If a vacant
spot appeared on her mind, he was quick
to fill it.

Spaces to fill were holes upon holes of
uncertainty, yet the misery of mystery
was a charm bracelet. Leaves and feathers
fettered and reasons for flight witheld,
her eyes and batting of them and the glare
of the lamp or the streetlight upon them
is all that he desired.

Spud ordered a drink and returned to
Angela's side. They booth took a sip.
Words were hard to come by in the
moment, but they exchanged looks and
mirrored their postures and let the rest of
the crowd became a blur.

And he became sick of this game and
wanted to talk to her now, now....

simon evans coverband

...charming is the helplessness of someone trying to
express a view of that which is not theirs