Frogspawn

Sky britens against my mood comparrison. Clouds
I smile across it. There's no need for weather forecast.       Its laughable to smile thru sadness
Life forever dull. I'm the seal sadly clubbed in the cull.
And yet not dead. I have a nitemare dreaming in my
stead. No words. Except ones hardly read. I'm hard            The well read are because their own
to spy existence of. A flake of dust from crust. I must         writiing is not so
not do anything at all. I'm ant beneath the tree most
tall and all that is my account a single tear in the fount       Tears tell silently what we never say
and small is this expanse of lonely. No bison to be

Buffalo. Oh, I am low. I whisper when I bellow. So           Whispers speak so loud
there's scant reminders of my flite to dust. I'm air
balloon gone bust. I trust in earthquakes, befriend               Befriending someone can stop the
a bull. An emptiness is my full. Now I walk ten miles         ending of them
per day until I am made of day. Whatever it will
throw at me. I'm teacup in a row of sea. Teaspoon
in a puddle. I make mathematical equations out of              Thinking increases sinking
a general muddle. Think too much. Sink to rust. I'm

Thrust into static haze. Die in daze. Rush in maze.      
Propose this just a changing phase. Hard as solid                People change into something all
concrete. As concrete as hard. I can't work out.                    the same
Exercise puzzle. Exorcise these demons in a muzzle.
They speak with life, bad mouth me, and leave me
left without a wife. Bereft of any name. I'm good as            Names mean they and we have
lion tame. And yet they're torn. I make them yawn.              meaning
Frog never leaps out of its frogspawn.
                                                                                               A frog in the throat jumps out
Majuscule:
Forever things fly
Rite over our heads
Only they go somewhere
Good, we think
Somewhere
Perhaps that air is
Allowing
Where the wind
Never stalls.   

Scratch Against Existence

This breath of mine is told. I am worthless
gold. I'm tracing paper transparency. There's
a darkness that I see. Dusk indigo. Stars bring
to it its shade. Like an unexploded bomb I
am made. I devastation of a decade. I'm someone
with a knife that played. Sharp finger red tars
sheared on the strings of a guitar. Strumming
like a death beetle drumming itself into a

Still sleep. Like a haunted grey thing creep
shadows that I look after. I'm given a headache
by the second of my laughter. I choke on
happy ever after and I fold like a pastry still
yet to be rolled. Flatten destiny out and shout
a wounded whisper's echo cry dying out like
one shy bat. I'm thinness overshadowed by
lite so fat. I'm sinister like a skulking cat
sulking in the nowhere corners of unknown

Rooms. I'm taking tenancy of all the tombs.
And I'm the monk who parties on the moon.
And I am sunk like a pierced air balloon
over too much ocean. I speak good words
after being delivered of potion. Death will be
my lotion for my deadly wound. My life
cannot be resumed. I'm man embalmed and
perfumed. I'm by my living doomed. The scratch
against existence caused offence. To those not
liking words. To those who live to deliver death.
To those unseen in pretence.  

Electrocuted Angels

I live in a haunted house. I haunt it. I have a                   Ghosts of the past are unreal things
spare penny coin. I flaunt it. And I'm undaunted              we create
by the murderer I share my abode with, spying
on me. I climb out of a keyhole and watch the                Small keyholes carry lots
ceiling fall down on me. I'm feeling that
electrocuted angels are all I ever see. Time                     Electrocution knows no elocution

Is an established stone. I baulk at the heaviness              Heaviness we want to be lite on
of bone and die or I diet. Calories of a sigh. To
be slimly invisible I try. Now I weigh less than               Shadows are as brite as we feel
a shadow, now I am fatter than blossom the
bough cannot hold. This story already                             What's told should be good
has been told. The carpet before unrolled.                         for the telling

Let the Little Book be unscrolled. And let there
be dark. Bring on the earthquake. Shut out the spark.     Earthquakes don't keep appointments
Cut out the electrocuted angels like paper doll
wan washing lines. Bring together rapture of                  Washing lines are comparatively unclean
all of the signs. To the blooded hands I myself
resign. Stigmata for Pentecost my gift. Through              Gifts are in the giving
the chaff forever for one gold wheat sheaf sift.