Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Jasper Brinton


Its the visual 
connection that’s purely granular
light flash over-rich cream
pulsing buttons to make clouds squirm
roasting the vague idle into shimmer balls
puffs of fail for instance.
There comes a time afterwords 
I drab and cry landlapping the animal touch
its so hard beneath the shadow handle
image of him as broken wood
this wish for an owlet catch
the however luck of his flight 
waiting fronting the houseblank
of a white wild skeleton
or slow view in death practice



equipoise for the human quark not grandstand snow
they already deliver the beach scene pony and youth
pieces float sleet into iris negatively whole
rust colored pebbles swirl quickstart fathoms 
blunge cornerstone knock-em-up froth
the day the galaxy beds the strand I succumb
I believe essence of wind wrenches her heart
burns the laughter the top book nourishes
so goodbye the lusted —how long the bedding


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