Post-Verballing The Map of the Gap

Reflections, and once would be dragons. Images dark, narrow, the thorn of the century. Smiles cling to drown out fading, the mental lens squirming around a kiss from the originary rending, into purple cubes, into the televised variant. A new garden escapes the years of silence, devoid, breathing in step-by-step eyeballs of ice.

Shame is wonderful with blood straddled by sentences, pieces which glint and turquoise like necromancy. Puppets moonbeam at any song's bullet for martyred, raining wrists. Without the noise of death, discovery chasms the day's palatial, stained platinum arms masturbating electro-shock, a crystal moment away, the precipice of meaning.

You, a warm, dissolving skull, imminent signs of collapse drunk on zephyrs of what is subterranean. Asymmetric, blessed by satellites of nouns, absent in blue oceans with a slender coalesce to elongate and contour the wind. The unattainable is spliced by roses and bearded formulae as will to power, violins glistening wet midnight's chance to cadence. This is synchronicity or a palm's convulsing attempt to be, to become automatic.




For Lee Kwo and Jaan Patterson


Please see Post-Verbal The Gap