an Absurdist Aliens’ Allegory


His grandfather’s last name was Inoswego –

He was robed in feverish thinking –

an Absurdist Aliens’ Allegory

etched on the eyes


ascetic, harshly featured saints.


His shaky hands,

like an octopus swimming in a hot broth,

wrote the lines in stark rainbows

on the walls of his twilight room.



In the land of the Chimera,

every tchotchke, doodad, and artifact bear,

their own menagerie of incorruptibles,

are sitting quietly, in cabinets and on shelves;

there will I meet you again.


Remember, that place,

full of days

bound by the wind and walnut shells ?

I used to live in anticipation,

full of stencilled shadows –

your hair spiralled,

clinging to the sleeping breeze,

even as regret turned


complex spatial structures,

a portable triptych


equations of albatross bones & frozen feathers.


Matter, aesthetically turned into Moebius strips,

twines between corridors,

echoing a more archaic art –

Grail Sine sighs

with your footsteps

on corroded rugs.



Tears of sand traced

memories on your face –

I’ll give you ten thousand kisses,

and then,

Ten times more

beneath the gold striations

on drenched draperies.


No one knows whether the initials

are those of the print-maker,

the book binder, the book-scald-presser,

the book’s owner, a whale-skinner,

a misplaced patron – or

the intangible incarnation of the deceased –

remnants of an artist with a refined sensibility,

like rose petals beneath the cactus.


notes on Asemic Dadaism lecture

The conventional view of the cosmos:

a complicated kremble model that could (sort of) accurately predict the movement, yet unwilling to commit publicly to it being farther away from the Earth than the laughing coffee person, who reads like a piece of salt, was believed to be; the bats are arguing about nutrient Pile-divers across the water.


A found visual in between the interesting sleeping thorns:

the slightly frozen lady reading the movement of the Clarion Tambien Pool. Surprisingly, there is no movement in the particular story, ambient lighting maintained with a spice grinder.


The wind becomes public during the invasion:

a heresy is whispered between predicting the predictive voice in the shoulder of old age. The read-pitch mode is played once a year.

Laughing translator border:

literary interest is in thought forms. It gave his feet glaciated cerebration. Is that observational Engels interested in composer mandate?


In earthly melange short stone fresh person:

sea, truthfulness, sincerity, or frankness. We value your dissolution measures, all functions have been released. What other powers are there?

Decoding poetry:

is simply an expression that keeps pan within an earthly ragbag letter stone-song person. The food that the girl jumps to is just her attention. I let her sleep.


becoming a unicorn – a dialogue

I’ve had Christmas cards addressed “To Vicky and them”!


I was called “the Ottoman Empire”!


I live alone. My name is Bernadette, damn it !


Will you return after restarting, even if you jailbreak with checkm8 ?


Been up since 4:45a.m., convinced myself the carbon monoxide low battery sound meant I was going to die. In retrospect, I realize that acoustic ecology has a lot in common with melodies that alternate cold and adhesive moisture.


Today is the anniversary my extraordinary mother left this earth. She was special. Becoming a unicorn, to acquire suspiciously attractive cultural understanding, so as not to be deceived by science, was her true passion.


Qalandar means something between a wise saint and a rank charlatan.


Her scrivener chants of innocuous dreams.


Just answer me my love. Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?


I congratulated him on his speech – he smiled – as a masterpiece of hypocritical bullsh*t. He stopped smiling. His mouth was a squashed caterpillar, an unfulfilled promise of Spring.


I think it’s out-rages with obsequious fawning oranges……

Before it had Cleric’s value. Only sticky and thin are closely related .


Take me to the river; wann hast du deinen Himmel verlor’n ?


What is your favourite work of translation?


Sleep as a Perception of Otter Tone Pram, translated by Indigo Fragmattah.


I only have one question. When will we see the transcripts of Fore Inn and Blotto Manual ?


Mittagspause? Slightly better resolution than Europeana – alarming, I have a colourful publisher.


The Hogmanai style of sleep, rather than flatness, elucidates time and epicontinental cyclical frigid and tenacious atmosphere that wears resistance.


Hogmanai style often sleeps, rather than flatness in some bland time. See, the sand rises in epic continental sighs! Please wear your resistance in the garden tonight.


Mixed registry artists dancing in the halls can come to the party. They are serving chitlins and crêpes suzettes.


The humidity in the air, with the impenetrable nature of the improbable artists, stretches a few miles, and is the most subjective of the crash.


Improbable artists stretch over a few miles; it is mostly subjective crashing into the glass dreams.


Poplars and their leaves, tender, smooth to the fingers, and a secret in their smell rise to the mountain tops.

I have forgotten scenes from exquisite graveyards.


Sleep, fast enough for implicit vocabulary from another boardwalk – the pretzel vendor wept when the mustard jar fell upon the pavement.


Scary, as I explore the inter-relationship between bats and colourful newspaper hats, its enchanting naivete are as supreme and unapproachable as a cubic box that slides towards the lily pond instead of a celebratory gathering of whispers.


Dancing together is clearly a vocabulary.


Love comes to explore.


Some people have a cold.


That alone makes the registry humid. Please do a lot.


Usually along a wall, forming an open fronted inner circle hinting at the growing air.


Hear screen clearly, as the humidity partitions impenetrable nature. It reminds me of my aunt’s cat – skeletons have been dancing people to their graves since at least 1424.


Old thousand kissed loans sleep barest – enough watermelons and feta cheese to cherish in quiet moments. I’m always drawn to isolated bus stops. Another promenade is planned. No idea why.


Look at what is inevitable. Which partition implicitly smells in the air ?


The wall was flat with toes.


Been to a broch?


Colourful is a trendy and stylish style.The ecology of listening is mostly a secret sandy garden, forgetting the secret of spending the night with vocabulary.


It is possible to put it out of reach. Some scientists are positive.


It is possible to put it out beyond night’s shoreline. It’s about employers. Are there any pretzels left ?


Are the best art of Hoary mailmen located miles away? Try the banana souffle.


Inwardly, the interrelationship of newspapers makes orchids seek the sunlight; the subtext is clear. The first moment quickly made the mountain of dreams smooth and languorous.


Open a retrospective page about sleep on a subjective screen – a stairway descends into in a Venice canal.

Is the hint I have together clearly a vocabulary?

Mixed registry of artists, juxtaposed worlds full of images….. Key chain of worn-out bones.


Then let us make a collage of our souls with mustard and tears.




Text material gathered from Twitter & related links. Google translate and Text Manipulation software tools used in creating dialogue.