who

Ambrosia: tactics spent and burnt
Tacitus said because they didn't know better
they called it Civilization
when lo it was part of their slavery.

I can dig that. Like I can dig
obsidian eyes lambent in dopamine
swirling above the stage
In glittering synesthesia

Who could you sustain one thought
For all eternity?
Who would?
You know who.

You know.

the good stuff

always want a word like "byzantine"
moutharchitecting some chattery flowchart
pitch simmering thought miasma
and yet the good stuff
is like

prairie face (never)

(Goiterneck
Sludgefoot
Melontesticle
Billowcaul

A billowing call...

Broken feet
Mendax...Mendacitor!

That's what they called him
(that's what they called me)
That's what they called him
(yeah that's what they called me)

Moonshine traveler
Insanity cousin, chainsmoking
Gluehearted
Bellyshaved

Fool and Ghoul Broker
of Most Warped Mendelism!

That's what they called him
(that's what they called me)
That's what they called him
(yeah that's what they called me)

(yeah)
(yeah yeah yeah)

I make a soft pillow
From whatever I can get...
I make my highwayside offerings
From wherever I can stand...

NEVER

Hell. What?
I know it makes no difference to you
(You’re the outsider)
What I do
(You’re the outsider)

So I, I’m just content to sit
(You’re old)
With my old hands composed
(Not composed)
Over this plate and wait and feel
If you’re gonna weigh back to where you came…
(Never)

I’ll take a small triumph from whatever I can get
(Can’t get much)
I can hear the cars out
I can hear the cars out on 96
Where you going?
I know it don’t bode well for you
Looking to get your kicks
(Already got them, honey)

Oh well.
(Learning to love them kicks)
Guess I’ll shit-kick out of here.
(Ah, yeah)
No one gets out of here alive.
I know you’ve heard that before, too.

But hey....

new day

the world is full of sin and mordant depravity.
and human beings are ludicrous apes. now
this is the first thing you say upon waking.
and you know it not to be true. what is true?
true means level. you say a beam is true,
or a cut, or person. you say they are true blue

now you want to go walking outside and there are leaves
on the ground and they are many as the people are many
they plummet, twirl and cluster as do the people?
what a shitty metaphor. well, you try. but have you been?
I am now. Oh I surely am now. but you know what that Great
Man said about trying

the morning is full of light of one kind or another. I say now
that there is no sinister light, not the moon certainly, I don't know
maybe if you were looking down into a volcano
perched on the rim like a carapace
or I guess I mean parapet
but carapace is interesting,
interesting that that would have occured to me to say
because I think I have none

well this is all but for dithering

but. here is an idea:

the grey mist

and water is the landscaper; you step out on that runway every morning; bear it every morning; feel it moving every morning; The runaway runway; I am a fast hand on a cliche; So what? So aren't you? it's a passthrough. this here is just a passthrough

mah mah mouth it

You always mouth it up so much.
You'd kill for that boy's touch
Mash it out and walk away.
Come back again some other day.

Urge the mind.
Nursery rhymes.
Cursive line.
Urgent times.

>>>

Mott Cromby

Walks off into the pale mist.

See you later.