When all the sherbert spoiled, when all the fruit went dry, there was this cave painting that knew of my attraction to the neon blaze.
See what you can scrape up for pocket change as our spirits divide division and walk to the beat of a zebra's ghost.
Pouring the grapes over the rim of a familiar garden...your blue eyes and sleepy azaleas.
When the moon through clearly eyes, I saw a wolf I oft despised.
Royalty never tasted a cake so thick with incisors.
Frogs make their boots into socks when the postmen lose their way to discover eternity.
The joy to be a basket case hung up on empty flowers down a crooked staircase as the plants grow tired in the name of a summer sun.
Subdued by the joys of division and all the factory's shifting plates, a rude beast shatters the ice.
Whatever was destroyed in the jukebox got hungry for the heart we sold to Frog King's Soft Cell Associates.
Dance floors light up alongside the teeth of our disco cousins from yesteryear, using halogen toothpaste to tease under the black lights.
As the pool cue slides to bring the breaking heart of a valentine hustler closer, the balls drop to begin a new game.
Kittens can fly and orbit if Horrorshows are projected onto bedroom walls.
If you are feeling dispossessed, Pariah, then count to 18 thousand and hold the beads away from the bees as we close our eyes and spin with the sun.
Sheep climb over cloud after cloud grazing on what the wolves left.
Tunnel can come with us if he shines Dark Night headlights through black-leather motorcycle jackets.
Modest mice heard what the flowers were saying to the wide-eyed puppets at dawn.
No, I've..../there is only all this warble of creation going on/ gonging on now/ birds, what stranger place is this?
guest post: joseph salvatore aversano
(check out joe's music at bearstatic)
Put some red on it or else it will keep bubbling, frothing, and disconnecting tissues meant for skeletal bridges.
Poison rises from the garden to give kisses to the moon and bless back the buttercups from surprising the miniature mice.
Crystal shards take everything but the silences when the angular bodies are coathangered into meat tricycles.
The silhouette of your cigarette means a beautiful killer might blue cloud this bedsheet.
Joyful pepper spray winds us up from almost any well.
Cellos are often asphyxiated by clean porcelain hands through the midnight gale.
After the radio broke, we began to dress in shattered cassette tapes.
Answering machines get glimpses of bad hair days and bloody guitar strings.
Lovers in need of organs only rot as lovely as the fruit.
Spinning CDs reflect old fingerprints when you breathe against the glass of the jukebox.
Soft needles knew the beating heart beside the municipal garbage can on Christmas Eve. in Boston.