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.”

Postcard from Allen Ginsberg

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.

The Universal Physical Response

+ Driving a car through heavy traffic has the effect of eliminating the pollen, thus providing crucial assistance in a child’s struggle with illness.

+ Sometimes the responses are very much exaggerated, and take infinitely varied forms.

+ For your reference, see Natural Habitat in the Age of the Biological Robot: The Effects of Previous Challenges to Health (From the Perspectives of Allergens and Bacteria) by Putnam and Rhora.

+ They may even discover pollen on the common radio.

+ Fever victims, for example, arbitrarily play mind games in dealing with the charts in medical waiting rooms and have been known to be financiers of the covert operation known only as Sweat.

+ - “…the color of the face. Every responding physician took turns influencing the emotional compartments of each patient on an individual basis. The gasps of horror, the panting of the conditioned crowd, the intensity of the effects roused conscious meanings from deep within even my very self, meanings previously assigned to only my nose, stomach, or urinary tract. The significance of this to the unconscious mind, and to war and all its tributaries, is enormous and viewed by a select few as perversely threatening.”

+ Working at a frustrating job, watching life from the inside of your body without knowing it. With some people the stress is over-rated.

+ Stuffed noses go their own way. The family quarrel has symbolic meaning in this situation only because it makes others resentful and often begs physical response. (Sometimes the pollen can be perceived as being the person. However, the whole person (both body and molded mind) figures into the actual evidentiary pollen count and consequent stress on the subject’s “life.”)

+ “Everyone here has recognized at least a handful of the patients. The upshot is that they’ll grow up to be real easy-going.”

+ Early childhood is only the beginning of a manufactured pattern of outside stimuli sent bent on wreaking havoc and programming brilliant minds to be clay targets for *demons in pinstripes.

* Sneeze if sufficient plant pollen or coin.

Chris Weige | TX | Share a key intuit | From The Richmond Review 

  

​

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

Fixed the Clock

Meow

Pages paged together with glue glued gold

Either way by the way it’s cool

when ozzy went glam you were not in a trance

you were on doomsday and swiftwater way learning a new language

listen yr right remember the roadkill riddlers n’ that professor in the newscast hypnotized

by an actor playing an expert playing with your fears -

with rich philosophical eye roll back recall - be the rainful faceless summer snow n’

startle the road, dormant dormitory doorman

i’ll tell you because of course because yr what fun way

pleading for pills

yr palms are maps with hallways and pointers

tell me about yr temples

the colour of lifetimes and make it symbols

Chris Weige | California, TX

The Full Frontal Itch

The elbow fiend opens the sweat hand

Thump-thumping the wounds on open road,

Flashback wind in every star trap,

All loudmouth thoroughfare rabbits;

The heart-shaped asses blister and sigh over cool night air,

Brittle grass and flatland charcoal;

The mighty quiet heartache radio

Will find habit to give in.

Will go for the shell.

Has folded over one ear with one mouth.

Will: (1) Fix yr zipper; (2) Heal yr body relax yr mind.

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

Filed under  //   cw   poetry   reckon

  

​

Pharmakeutikos (n-i-L-atir)

For sale for sale fit and shivery spoons full of wordfood for infants because no one really looks

sound bytes become books for unhappy children, or they drug them into submission

what are you going to do? they are elite think tanks engineering sociopsycho culture shocks through

psychic weaponry, mass hypnosis, pharmaceuticals - electronic mantras fulfilling when taken with rv’s - electromagnetic music

feeding messages such as obey the, be a good mass producer consumer citizen be, what we say goes, this is yr life

go-go-shopping-stop, don’t look up-down-drop, stop-go-run-no, eat, slow, succeed in this way and in no other way go

swindledom (keep quiet)

is this document easily accessible?

is this document intended for you?

Kissed my ear the hormone part you really wanna want

A  casual place

A casual place that isn’t crowded and loud

A casual place with silverware sounds in the background;

A casual place

A movie and a long walk

A casual place cunnilingus -

We should talk we should talk we should talk.

Applaud sex and death beds, applaud!

Time and Your Frantic Feet

Hello,

This is Wires, and we will cross again.

Did you and Mojo break the ice?

If I haven’t already told you, you look super, strange.

Super if you look strange: extraordinary.

Are you wearing what you said you would wear?

Everything should be the color of your skin.

It has those remarkable patterns:

Forget the deluge of lace this moment…

I see your ideas and things get REAL again,

And I do remember the words to eat.

They probably get a great view

Of the Sunrise and Set from the aperture, swimming through me.

I do recall taking furious notes negotiating a turning row

With a musical truckload of girls, overjoyed with the well of flesh.

Encore: Kissing and hollering over limber lip loops aching,

And they might have all been you.

I had a chat with your mirror once. In becoming your face it learned to think and speak. It lifted your chin and gave your face a cool light. It made one and then another precious bare leg.

I stared at your big toe, your strut, your depressions, the one-liners; your sultry something else by no means forgotten.

I say this without regret. You come on with this beautiful bandage and heart giving in, confided. You are here and every head Eros:

Would by the word thunderous lovemaking.

Would by the tongue the display of everything.

At hand then, would you want to run?

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

Hello, This is Wires, and we will cross again. Did you and Mojo break the ice? If I haven’t already told you, you look super, strange. Super if you look strange: extraordinary. Are you wearing what you said you would wear? Everything should be the color of your skin. It has those remarkable patterns: Forget the deluge of lace this moment... I see your ideas and things get REAL again, And I do remember the words to eat. They probably get a great view Of the Sunrise and Set from the aperture, swimming through me. I do recall taking furious notes negotiating a turning row With a musical truckload of girls, overjoyed with the well of flesh. Encore: Kissing and hollering over limber lip loops aching, And they might have all been you. I had a chat with your mirror once. In becoming your face it learned to think and speak. It lifted your chin and gave your face a cool light. It made one and then another precious bare leg. I stared at your big toe, your strut, your depressions, the one-liners; your sultry something else by no means forgotten. I say this without regret. You come on with this beautiful bandage and heart giving in, confided. You are here and every head Eros: Would by the word thunderous lovemaking. Would by the tongue the display of everything. At hand then, would you want to run? Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit