I hope the blog-comment box debate and the subsequent shutting down of Silliman's
is temporary--lasting long enough to instill the importance of being only as feisty as is needed.

As when, in the thick
Of an illicit
Interaction, there's a click--
It's then that I
Start worrying:
Pulling hanks
From mannequins, appealing to
The outer district's
Most esoteric
Stances like humidity
Refracts a rainbow, raw row
Through a reticule
In whose micro-clime
There's always enough time.

No luck reaching the finalist stage with Omnidawn's chapbook contest; oh well--one o' these days maybe I will make it to a shortlist!

Octet of a Non-Existant Petrarchan Sonnet:

The scrawl was just that, misprision
No suture could mend, like edelweiss.
We weren't left alone with the device
Everyone's whispering about, as in a Fun
House timbre which threatens the spun-
Glass balance I perch on as doves slice
The grey air, supple with the scent of spice
But abrasive not sweet like a Cinnabun.

1

In the
Interest of saving
Time, let's
Adumbrate--
Or gaze--
At our reflections in
These plates--
Sopped clean; sea-life
Nipping a corpse couldn't do any better.

2

One of the scopes
Was missing
Like a tiger
A tooth; the tooth
Is lodged under
A step
Grit dusts like
Talcum or falcon
Droppings from the pair nesting above.

The way the yes
Rolls off the tongue
Of the girl in this Roller
Derby makes her horny, makes her
Mom crave an orchid--
One from Ghana--
and Riana on the radio
But the only
Plug here mirrors a tumor
Roughly the size
And shape of a fetal Macaw.

Outlying--embryo on
Its way

In--inner--eruptive
Sensibility

Stemming a sight
More falling than

Water--titanium-hard--
Shimmering

Helices dissolve
Encrypting

An Organism starting to
Originate.

Ok I've likely fibbed a bit: probably do have a one in ten acceptance rate; but I don't think it's one in 6, and that'd be amazing.

Please if you glance at this blog--post a comment!

I'm really beginning to burn out on rejections--one from Typo just a minute ago, for example.
It'd be nice if my acceptance rate could reach the 1 in ten rate! Oh well.

There-there care-bear, wherever sunlight
Dapples delicious things grow and grow

You up-up, into ether
Whose general profile

Concords to titanium--
Conceptual

Art pieces on a wall in Lithuania:
Stars of a gallery famous for

An entrance all arches and no doors
Ensuring the security of inclusion.

A Fragment:

I--an am in ambivalent

Prose-Poem After/For Kate Zambreno

Squeak, amnesia! Kill lice with amyl nitrate! After your hair is an aftermath, allow your ass and limbs and torso to grow dirty--deeper than the deep of deep-clean. Once you're all dolled-down, walk the prettiest streets in your suburb. I assure you there'll be a huge moon out; its light will beautifully stage you--bats will whirl 'round your head, blindly and with utmost sensitivity admiring your amble.

“…one adjective too many and you’re out”

Parks and parcels and pickups and pitstops and pits and arms and armoires;

Exquisite parks and radiant pickups and egregious pitstops and anorexic arms and ostentatious armoires;

Exquisitely mannered parks and radiant roaring pickups and egregious gregarious pitstops and anorexic elegant arms and ostentatious splintery armoires;

Exquisitely mannered dangerous parks and radiant roaring jaundiced pickups and egregious gregarious gorgeous pitstops and anorexic elegant allotropic arms and ostentatious splintery aromatic armoires;—

All of the above has burned. Someone has swept the ash and pips into a pile. Scoop some of the char up and mix with oil; make up your eyes.

Two variants--likely influenced by Aase Berg in its use of repetition (tho that of With Deer is more emphatic, and I don't have a love of heavy-handed adjectives; what is it with her and "Evil"!? Evil landscape this, Evil that, and that, and that):

In the appall there is an atoll. Eventually there. Fine sand. White fine sand. Palm frond on sand. Sand on fronds. In the appall he dreams of apples. Air appears pixilated. Pixel apples fall on sand not white nor fine. Someone must not be there. Not someone but there is there anyways. Water temperature is rising; hotter and hotter laps the sand. Hotter and hotter rises and rises and rises; the atoll becomes closer and closer to being submerged. Picture palm fronds appearing to float or at-least sway akin some species of seaweed. Many atolls are palmless. Pick up sand; let your hand love. The subject is disappearing or already departed; what emerges in its absence or does anything? Not thing—occurrence. An appall mutates—apple dapple. Then pines needle. A pineapple sweet juice. A rosin tinted horizon—a resin-slow breath-metric.

In the appall there is an atoll. In the appall he dreams of apples. Air appears pixilated. Pixel apples fall. Water temperature is rising: hotter and hotter laps the sand. Hotter and hotter rises and rises and rises; the atoll becomes closer and closer to being submerged. The subject is disappearing; what emerges in its emerging absence? An appall mutates—apple dapple. Pines needle. A pineapple sweet juice. A rosin tinted horizon—a resin-slow breath-metric.