Facts & Truth

Facts & Truth

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Of Plonk and Cruft

sometimes madness has to come out
a long turd extruded down the centerline
of a highway in the middle of nowhere
summoned by the rarefied air
the altitude of mountains
a blinding fog
at the edge of the world
you have pointed to its boundary
it would be time to turn away
but this is impossible

the heart of America
is toxic dead black oozing
down at the bottom
of the Gulf of Mexico
killing everything around it
dragging it back
to the center of the earth
tilt-a-whirls and an
elliptical Ferris Wheel
Because We Can

there is no story being told
a story only exists in the past
this is what is unfolding before you, now
not necessarily making any sense
just bleak and deterministic
a slow motion train wreck
and the more layers that separate you
from the appearance of what may have already occurred
the longer you are able to ignore what will become fate
until you too are its witness

exploding gargoyles

First, an explosion of some kind.
The beginning of memory.
What came before?
Amnesia? Nothing?

Is life a bird
that will only be seen once?
maybe from the eye’s
quarter and so confused
with a shadow disappearing
momentarily in a dark branch
you still hear its call
but don’t know how to respond
hesitate perhaps a little too long
and then silence for a while
maybe you still hear it
can’t be that far…

In the end
like stones
in closer sync
with eternity
glacial,
evaporating,
if we make it
that far.
A change of state
that is irreversible.

Like Gorgonzola or New Jersey.

Howlie Hogslop Encounters Entropy

He could feel his life closing in on him. Echoes were noticeably shorter in duration. Absolutely and relative to one another, which conveyed a sense of movement even when there was none, save the spinning of the world.
As if shifting from 3 dimensions to 2. A collapse mirrored in his surroundings and being.  The great wave had begun gathering momentum before the moving, turning. The compass needle seemed to wobble by itself. A series of warm days would be followed by a hideous wind and then a heavy snow snapping the branches that had somehow miraculously been spared earlier. 

Perpetual Motion

should anyone doubt
the power of
the spirits of dead plants
see it in the movement
of  ruined factories
the searing sun
tortured winds
swollen waves
folding earth
this is not something
undetected
it has happened
right through the eyes
still we are numb
in zombie beguilement
since under the influence
of a trance induced
by the continual quest for
perpetual motion

should anyone doubt
the spirits of living plants
see it in what is hungered for
when life is overturned
in continuum
how appetites are controlled
externally by
something with flavor
something that smells
something that makes a sound
something that emits a light
something pleasant to the touch
as it is known internally
an infinitely fragmented
representation
temporal, elusive and
consumed rather than regarded
or held at arms length
for this is the nature
of our relationship
in your face
inseparable
yet mutually undetectable
but by inference
apprehended