Reaching Into the Universe

I’m related to this man


But only by marriage 🙂

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Who wrote this poem?

This is one of my favorite poems, and I have no idea who wrote it. I found it online once upon a time, and now can't find anything about it.

eaten by the jejune orbs of paradise

doodles bring forth the bugs of the gods. if magic is under constant
construction, how is the head rigged to hover over its work like silk?

melons and antelope in code.

a certain magnetism might deliver an advantage, or else a mind mediated by dread, ennui, nudity, a tryst of blood and dreams. the mythic light in kelp. by myself, indigent, a gaffe. as slick as her bed after demented radish. harbinger of freedom and deliquescence. a glut of minds like racketeers. cancer is a natural virus like management and light. at the sign of her dear endeavor, minds spinning in a red spaghetti. something lurks inside the leering glen, bland pitiful runt, i doubt the veracity of our soberest orders. bleed leaders established in tables of ether. american risk initially after its audition urgently rigged for clarity. summer in the magical fjords, her ankles crinkle and her statements survive, eternally surreal.

deer resting by the rill. forever, even in summer, at night, gifts of blood, papers flying in the night, genes, villages, beliefs, dust knotted in frogs, dogs, fleas, flesh will believe, flesh and will, until essence, light, manifests as love. blood and death, blood in the famous rivulets. a bald dog bleeding from the eyes. death, ludic or ludicrous, fatigue. alive in a series of classes. arab land. glass and risk. planes navigate the ends of eternity. the nude grandmother enters the fort, remembers medieval travesty. diplomatic fangs, yellow with dreams, the old man directs his harms of magic. lingering maladies, ligaments and charm. dominant trends, magnets, senseless cruelty of the intellectual class. fold control at the site of rationality. beasts cry in escrow beside the rivers.

i am a dream, a storm, a story, a drug, jagged near-sighted laughter, a miracle and an ass. i entered the fiscal reality of the nest, gestation of fools, a dragon and a blade. the rest is a half-eaten zen.

muscular limousine evasion, entheogen and piano. antlers hurtling beside little else are deaf deft delirious delicious, eaten by the jejune orbs of paradise.


American zeitgeist

I think Mark Morford nailed it in his column last month, Why are you so terribly disappointing?

Check it out. The entire thing is one long whine, and I couldn't help but see some of my own attitudes in there.

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