In a Single Picture a Strategy and Result

Kinetic the interface nerve spreads restless kinetic words

re-discovered in the anguish of the anatomical skinny

How grotesque these modern months
how dreamily diabolical the monstrous methods and intimate stunts

When might everyday life be pieces of poetry, World Words?
When might it not?
Visual music wants to change the warsong framework of time
With re-pulsing literature flashing superbeams through pre-recorded walls

Hot honeyed in the installation room,Viewer:
you water songs looking at the many people mazed

In the glittering gutter slurping at the waterbank chain
humping at(o)ms trying to find a pulse

In the rape and pill age
rebuilding after hurricane

after hurricane

after hurricane.

Intuitive evidence mounts and what's in a name or breed of plant?
What's in the seemingly familiar mundane lurking about?

Long that hard chorus sneaks and stalks outside my windows hardly worried
about eternity earth or the rough lense of time

Mothering me it knows better from giving and oral story morals
Still, determined stones are living

Tho some know not why
the ground becomes sad music

Sadly dimming
when the air says rise wishes rise.

Chris Weige 
From The Pulchritudinous Review
Ed:  Renee Zepeda

Inkling and the Bloody Horse

Creation got me hooked on human evolution

and hordes of exhausted, shore-bound creatures

who look even more legendary in color

humdingers and man recognizes it becoming reality by now

installing airbags for just about every shelf,

frozen then and in a building bombed erica's triumph over theworld.com

glyph gnash alienari - we're all so sorry

people got killed in head-to-head debates in the nation we were

in the way we brought the plot home having fought previously

over a world repeating in the same way from the beginning

out mount rose the kinds of things necessary to make a point or roman road

or construct a superpower colossal along the curve in the ess

where ditch speaks tongue to reed.

Soulful Maze, Photocopy the Everything Range

Sensuous photogenic you,

am many roads in a minute are

riveting candelabras who hourglasses dared

to go electric

They cut iF with a million dollar knife but the uncomfortable cake left the showroom and exclusive shore-line retreats

half empty.

Yet in each margin horizon more

in so many clouds good rain or even re-runs.

Louder, chemicals see-sawed and status

decided the poor benefit lines (but words change).

To you with poetry re-paint the shh theater, take a big ol' breath in (real deep)

while a country-world detours but for one loud train full of

louder laughs and thicker voices (probably sunshine)...

Do doorways conceive you? 

Do you like them (_open or_closed)

who go to you its movie:

Louder, train.  I swear.

Chris Weige | Reckon | Austin, TX. 

Please Come Supernaturally Loud

He Had Sweat and Bedpost Spasm

Cut-Up / Remix

inspired by Alchymical Romance by Lee Battersby

he had she

he had sweat and bedpost spasm

he had nostrils where they count most

she'd had he before she'd gone

entering the long orgasm

with a ripple of sensational ghosts

he moaned, then

his eyes crisscrossed

and his curls toed

she'd had him and he'd swung open

supernaturally,

unexpectantly peering at the nothing weeds

and the nothing stars

into the dark warm mirrorheart

he paused to palm her burnished bronze

it was soft

~.~

Please Come Supernaturally Loud

Cut-Up / Remix

inspired by Alchymical Romance by Lee Battersby + AR baum-bastic mix by Matthew Lowe

please come supernaturally loud

please the animal be

put a finger on the skin

warm and sticky

then without a word

whirr and spark

oh god

oh god!

~.~

Superhuman Tongues with No Sense of Shame

Cut-Up / Remix

inspired by Alchymical Romance by Lee Battersby + AR Gender Exchange Remix by Sarah Xu

superhuman tongues with no sense of shame

decide to follow the headlights forever

they lick the slick oncoming lanes,

assorted bottles, rainbow dirt, cappuccino sugar cane

you've changed, one says to another

you don't any longer feel a thing

i'm sorry

drugs, clocks, blades or fluids caused it

or the empty nothing deadening everything it touched

today, however, the driveway doorway porch

has upon it a cardboard box which contains a lamp

or surely something better than money by much

a suntanned lamp held together with honey

a new wave hard-won torch or tether

an angel-winged tramp.

~.~

Reckon Remixes Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share alike 3.0

Remix My Lit

Download the electronic version of Through the Clock’s Workings and start remixing. The entire anthology can be remixed - the original stories, the remixes, and even the fonts.

Remix My Lit is a Brisbane based, international remixable literature project. The project aims to apply the lessons learned from music and film remixing to literature. It is designed to explore where remix fits into literature. It will provide a space within the discipline to encourage and foster a community and culture of remix.

Her the Maze Wants Body

They say the Devil’s getting married in Cincinnati, Ohio.

We say, “The sun is shining and it’s raining at the same time!?”

An inspired calligrapher can create pages of buzz-saw, pick axe, marigold

or even strawberry jam using stick ink, quill, brush, oleander, mist, amaryllis,

hot spell blue norther - a big storm according to James Joyce (between you and me and the fence-post):

Onomatopoeias.

“So I will get to work & I will finish you off, question mark;

shaketh a shackle shaketh a spear, type talks and make characters,

exclamation marks to set you off; I will catch on latch onto the key boards,

hit my marks. Interrobang and shall not depart. I like this hullabaloo, brouhaha, hubbub. I like this outlandish Dino Martin Stego-TheSaurus so flush and popular. I recognize my body…desperately my breasts, my face my breasts all my smells my dirty depths…Hear my rain of orgasms, Addict; I am all you have left.”

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Thread Through the Enormous Re-Imagining

Love the Weak Too

We are all ever so

in becoming ourselves,

visibly haunted and like the future

sometimes blurry;

Yet we have everything

and have grown together,

discovered treasures and gentle transformations,

become happy ever-so-often,

and as people begin to arrive

a few think it is a vision;

They are confidently assured in their awareness

but deep down love a good surprise

knowing every day the future forwardly shapes the past.

Yet no one monster minds, no one panics or protest-picnics.

People begin to arrive…

What Fate Sway ( Lake Epps )

The recorded future story made some wonder, opening up like that;

Constant rock and only a handful were doing it. I was looking for a really hard edge, but the good news is I don’t know anything and found something better anyway.

Completely different: something that’s not been done. It took sticks and stones to roll and musicians like wild scientists sweating smoke. It’s not hip-hop; it’s not skate-what. It’s not another job or record con-tract.

All of a sudden, all of a sudden being born trying to overstand infinity.

And stood and sauntered across to record the atmosphere really. I was getting out there, Sway, in Africa; but I’m glad this whole incident is like a soap opera with dirty sex and dark, low points

…there were some doozies there between the cracks.

Come on, spill a drink on those two-hundred dollar jeans.

Everybody jones

&
She moans

the new multi-faceted telepathy.

But you go on; stay that way...

The Flat of My Tongue Will Discover a Mirror We Decide to Taste

Like backward english, nude under your lips.

A sure tongue begins to squirm, shy about wishes.

Warm cocoon explosions

Kiss this rolling slow soft ignition,

These complimentary tastes and exemplary ear-splitting affairs,

Flavored thoughts and lights, a number of licks.

We are now another southern delicacy.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Filed under  //   cw   poetry   reckon

  

​

Horse's Heart Full of Dramadharma

Soon, typewriter, me grow larger so either ecstasy will do, as well as the elusive and often neglected Door Number 3: a purple-shaded orgasm, the bright light of which fell upon The Mouth. We were all in the poem, it appears, and also some kind of horseshoe.

What were you going to tell me?

What was I going to say?

Oh, yes, the hand-painted sign at Rome Laundry:

“Ladies, leave your clothes here

and spend the afternoon having a good time.”

And, like I was saying, we must preserve our natural racehorses. Envisage palimpsest and nothing less. Be a stuttering melody gesticulating. Let’s wash off our masks and demonstrate our cheekbones, tally tree rings in California, TX. Ring-tree sing-sing analog – bark and coat: Firewall and lemon; peppermint stick and laser guided heat-seeking missile; the voyage of the Sagittal & Lambdoid Junction, antipode Aboriginal.

“Triangle noises are miracles,” the Intercom Girl muttered. “I mean…they’re selling fake fun, ya know.”

The headlines were “Tiger Mauls Roy at Mirage: Show Closed Indefinitely” or “Tiger Attacks Illusionist.”

Chemical Habits of a Timeless Century

Staggered, the bruised trumpet spit but did not rot.

The infant bees put their happy muscles to sleep

In the illusion of a breakneck pulse;

The ecstasy overcame the marrow,

the joints were oiled and the pesky bedsore splints scattered

with mad, mad thoughts of heathers and stephens in the improvisational flesh;

Found all-a-them in the details of clowns, in classic drawn-out remarks, payoffs for history on the face of earth told by musky musky mimes on colorful May days.

What a crazed sleep you were in when you balanced all those books on your head, and how ’bout those smoky snowflakes melting in slow motion?

The pills, the medication cures

the loser phantasm mastered.

Breathe in gulp the deepest random decades, City,

Go meet the Town where the seeds are aplenty.

Forego the answers in the trickery and drive.

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Staggered, the bruised trumpet spit but did not rot. The infant bees put their happy muscles to sleep In the illusion of a breakneck pulse; The ecstasy overcame the marrow, the joints were oiled and the pesky bedsore splints scattered with mad, mad thoughts of heathers and stephens in the improvisational flesh; Found all-a-them in the details of clowns, in classic drawn-out remarks, payoffs for history on the face of earth told by musky musky mimes on colorful May days. What a crazed sleep you were in when you balanced all those books on your head, and how 'bout those smoky snowflakes melting in slow motion? The pills, the medication cures the loser phantasm mastered. Breathe in gulp the deepest random decades, City, Go meet the Town where the seeds are aplenty. Forego the answers in the trickery and drive. Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Filed under  //   cw   poetry   reckon

  

In the curly corners stumbling

The angry margin must escape from illusion.

To escape from illusion illuminate;

Solve the problem.

Take it out of the city to a country tree;

apricot, peach, anything you see or make a new fruit.

Ripe ones, ripe ones here by the highway booth;

Cobra sly-eye,

Antiseptic bee cave stew;

Cowboy’s just tongue and rock star’s roadkill avatar;

Smoke words begin to tease passersby in speeding cars

Sprawling chainlink in whitewashed tires, homemade icing, cream, antifreeze;

In the curly corners stumbling I buzz about salt

and grass three shades of ivy,

hunter-weed to the edge of umber,

these acres with their silvery ice-water wells & wooden ladders

climbing up billowy sky which is why I bother see

which is why I salivate which is why I…

Mira

All-Star Glass

It Will Float Just Deep Enough

+ To displace a pound of water look closely over the ocean floor today. Moreover, remove that old cork or block of wood. At this elevation you will not be swept up by water.

+ In the same way, do your origin or the origin of a close friend, neighbor, or lover.

+ There are two ways of investigating enormous masses of granite. (This is similar to the principle that enables us to answer why a cork floats.)

+ In the case of the continents it is the vague outlines of the structure of the Colossal Corks. (Granite is about gravity measurements – certain amounts of granite and idols lie.)

+ A block of wood, being heavier than a cork, reaches deep down to support the three subterranean levels untouched by laws above the ocean floor.

+ - The bodies are buoyant in the crust. It is possible to perceive material in which they are immersed. Sensitive instruments will detect the basement layer – also, their true make-up. (Both approaches will work.)

+ Indeed they have massive roots.

Chris Weige | from The Richmond Review '02 | Share a key intuit

Twelve Silhouettes Waiting in Space

Street mattresses follow pedestrians

on the far side of the lime green trees

The film dreams magic nurses
outfitted blue wading in the rainwater

Such humane desires
(the animal felt forbidden)

In the windows in the moonlit
obsessive horse

Sex bodies saved themselves for the happiest hands,
metaphors moved vehicles through towns in the middle of forests rigorously recorded,

Hypnotic swells of the Pacific becoming (that animal)
Call it Love, call it a plethora in the dark, distant alit mountain…

Chris Weige '07 From The Pulchritudinous Review No.1 Ed: Renee Zepeda

Sweet Dairy Whey (be a pussycat be uh-huh brave)

Big Bhanji Bhang or Silo Sinsemilla;

Where did ‘Is’ begin?

The totality of the universe in its

Fundamental existence?

Likewise cell, likewise galaxy, the dimensional

Intersections of reality -

Vortex on vortex on vortex on end,

Internal coherence. Diatonic scales,

Cooking with gas on the orbit on the beam,

Seeds placing bets in stalls,

Climactic walks evoking tenderness in

Improvisational songs,

Like when you talk…

The ball, the bundle,

On the nose on the button on the bridge:

Phenomenal Hot Shot.

It’s a deal, me too, sure thing; I’ll drink to that,

I hear ya…

Like you say, “Groovy all the way gravy.”

Up Upping Scare Up the Beach

Crawl on up ascend me.

Emerge utterly, Love.

Revel in every ear ever raw ever loose,

The things the wobbly blows a prizefighter TKO.

Tip the cello.

Tip the erect bass.

Tip the blue skull of the sky out the window:

I am swimming in the flesh,

Over wild boomtowns and stunning rococo churches;

An unlimited field opens up like old timers untangling a rhyme.

Human joints re-invent the male and rock n’ roll in our time,

In our time, with the romance of the 20th Century flying by,

The beginning shedding leaves in a blowout, an evening feeding and whoop-dee-do-la. Lovey-dovey artsy-fartsy air-rush climb on up,

Savvy these birthmarks and underdeveloped photos of superstitions.

I love the inside beat and blossom by the freak tide pouring down my throat.

By the way, who is tending your beautiful blisters?

Scrubbing yr back with sound?

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

School, dutifully

Indecent and profane white-hot through the muse veins;

exalted Prince for instance; really rich titles and

pajama parties when social dynamite and hieroglyph outburst

or flare up like

Naughty bird balanced on Formica table tricky

under mattresses as on pressing board and cabin porch

or private creek nude in the woods Wimberley,

Birthday uniform on a blanket over pillowy rock.

We had the lips sparked and meditating,

Dark smoke exhaled, and separated by mine each hand:

Pigtails and buttocks;

Good mood love and happy fate spilling spokes in the boomerang park;

The mood swings around again – her legs become spaced-out steeples.

I just look up sweaty woman cause I’m down.

Bendy

remember - lend that root a lengthy review, and once in a while place an obnoxious bet on yourself, for your own good word on i see a photograph lending a look at me and you, Bendy, hanging out over obnoxious neighborhoods who are not romantic looking automatic acting the part: we are not only our masks, schisms, isms and sadistic sadisnt its. you don't remember that yet? raid senile melodies then, rewolf and repedal where words lead the way bury the whirlruts thirsty along the lengths of the roots, review the scenes a time or two between the other drugs and bet: usually they do when they do that anyhoo nowadays - it's like nike's in yr blood and it's never enough. Sad, isn't it?  You and me between the toxic title bouts speaking in seeds. Over there then rewolf word-in word-out drugs and melodies nestled romantic-like at your foot and we find a way out/in/you win. Chris Weige | Reckon | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Priddy

Whatever it is kisses

Brick walls facing fists,

Then the number and the tune -

All the lovers of our youth, Blue.

Then the phone booth empties

& Art records the payback and anti-tongue.

She roars, ah, and expects the sun going,

“How did you find me and remember how to read

the Word on my body?”

Teasing!

A mutter: a given name amongst so many, many happening.

A catnap: that first nervous lick.

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit