Resembling sugar or surgical instruments without style
My thoughts are always the suborder of some target or sun-base
The canister of Death’s unexpurgated flowers screaming in a see-through canefield
I walk on the cylindrical carpet forever causing love to impersonate itself
Noticing seaweed here and there and a Tranströmer of time
And in darkness my clay reverses its sounds mechanically
We go on without the tangents of echo made of color
Into the seeming barbwire the holy bellow of compromise
The color there where it fades to fanatic orange fish
Like oxen ablaze with digital hemispheres feeling an algebraic numbness
And the sharp order of white paint witnesses a car crash into cashmere
Each person blooming with the seven features of a nickel exploding
Where outer gratitude installs itself in the heaviest worthless oil
A brick-laden cadaver a tradition of cedar and excretion
The face’s honeycomb and seraglio or the wilderness ending with plunder
Pilots trade lightning for the scavenger’s secret in South America
So my hair is now scattered among tulips in lorikeet spermbanks
For the welcoming piss of the furnace’s negation as that which invariably comes next
We go blonde with rabid pageantry like a cleaning agent
Seal the visions of a false-blue diameter like unbending curves
And notice accord as conveyed Deva as apple as Johny Duvernoy
Yes notice accord like the war of original defamation calendars
The submarine shards in my heart form camellias of gods unwritten
Or a silver turkey or a brass gymnasium early in the 17th century
A little wine would work its way into the dust railroad of horror poetry
If the clocks could keep their permission whole and calculated
If the docks could sleep on the bent syringe like sudden Swedish monks 


Joomla SEF URLs by Artio

Buy Lana Turner #9

Issue 9 is HERE!

Order Now

@ltjournal on Twitter