My Canvasses Are Surrealist

McLuhan.

Mags hearts peru

Mags was made and to him a statue they did dedicate

on a marbled checker floor in a building larger on the inside
than on the out, an always changing spaceway whose grand piano
wore beautiful top form teeth.

“I’m down with you in any language,” he liked to say.

Of course this was approved by the authors whose hostile guard and foreign diets alarmed everyone.

Mags knew all about tormented verbs and seismic everything, some Shambala widespread and moreover: petroleum and the African lineage, the anthropologist’s astonishing South that mystified
continually Oahu unified in the recognized Earth.

Genetic was his eyezenhower satellite
with Maya in Maya and sweet Iroquois in Iraq.
His voice drilled deeply these names and tales
of other voice box invasions by candlelight in Polynesia
(where he first read of the great American race)

Mags hearted Peru and all his LED encounters over immortal land-bridges
suspended under root and foot, written in the enlightened regions by the full population,
hydrides, high-rises, even long-sewn yarns living in lakes in painful-hard glassy-broken-vessel jars.

8.15.07.

Chris Weige | Texas | Sagacity 08

Architecture For Humanity has launched a Peru Earthquake Reconstruction Appeal to raise funds for upcoming reconstruction efforts. While actual design and construction aid may not begin for a few months, AFH needs your donations today to help provide funds for long term rebuilding.

Diving Board: Erasure poems from many moons

Notes on hot intergalactic hullabaloo

The April Molina Was Scrumptious

What kind of planet was it can't remember...it was the home of 'The Whopper'

Written on long eyelashes and blonde ambiance

"We bought a load of weed off a veiled subplot named Trombone who loved nothing more than the Nile river." ~ Justin with the buck tooth fetish

A disappointed Jon Bon Jovi in a look cocked sunken suddenly clumsy sullenly sleek since solo was the easiest of all.  (Tunes that taste like toast)

Centuries of Drugs

Just Nod if You Can Hear Me,

Hot Intergalactic Hullabaloo

Notes on nine dollar wine

A jug of iced tea on a freshly cut lawn between two sprinklers

A hand rolled cigarette at a quarter to five

Sex drugs Stones Beatles

Hooked on phonics remembering how to read

How odd, how neat, how futuristic

Hooked on the broadcast mediums

Clairvoyant opportunists playing with erasers and a ton of young skin,

And through the body becoming it, breath a wind made words in the moment You

Listen still not knowing what to do (good).  The mysterious manuscript brings riches and immortality.

Remember everything in 33 seconds and eliminate all your debt, remember your will your every wish knowing this knowingness through

And through the body becoming it, breath a wind makes words in the moment You

And the love part keeps picturing it, the love part half a minute ago, that was the moment I knew.

Notes on romaniac

Frozen has oil forever in the vegetable beaks.
How easy. 

Tesla would employ blank and ignite haplogroups
Over the great global earth soup,

Raising organic arcs to ascertain
The mantle who married the crust.

Love.  It's fun when you get the knack of it,
But where did they get the money from?

He was a scientist, and a good one.
He could thread a cloud through a giant mountain, Motherfuckers.

Never enough for no one / Hooked on it

Pretty tough stuff
How poetry works a diamond
Pretty touchy stuff

Rats, Stars, Stars

Odyssey purring poem
Words - how the mechanic's mind
Is hooked on subconscious
Stars who were the first text
Starry eyed story lined starlines
Impulses subconscious
Now Gutenberg Galaxy in Hollywood space
Silence as much as talking taking everything
Into poetry place.

Bern Porter Found Poems

Notes on their afterglow

Fantastic otherworldly poses made of delicious living bodies. Strange rivers of close-up pictures of nature. Lovers report to the scene in the flesh everywhere exploiting their discoveries & trying on favors. Depth flourishing in salons & saloons. Surrealistic social types gathering light gear heading toward the park in the nude. Moody way the spells shadows cast, brooding buoyant nudes diffused, distorted, pieced back together in glue glued together gold.

Their afterglow swept through politics and the world everywhere revealed how they felt.

Far reaching innovations triumphed, equal to painting and sculpture, by common order uncommonly known insights

Sexual and social common methods, similar magic uncommonly vexing masters of erotic mysteries. Sorcery. Potions. Positions

(Had been laid

And on the way to the lobby)

Notes on My Left Dimple

Out of body experiences

A guy squatting, ashing his cigarette into his boot

A dopamine junky doing the weather

Vociferous limestone

These concepts constitute essence

Every rock of earth glows (clues to their origin)

Snakes, extreme cold, lack of food, noise, crowding, crowdfunded extreme heat, man to man defense

Chat show shit amusement park full of broken parts

The last known copy of 'My Left Dimple' (by Sarah)

A few dozen failed start-ups and thousands of used computer parts

For a Woman Involved: Clitoral Tuning

Nobody Know What Got Into Mr. Somebody's Name

Nobody Know What Got Into the Breadcrumb Map

Chill, NAFTA that, Nap

Bug paw in the raw hand

bug paw in the raw hand

Outright that place goes yes

declares vitality achieved

the modern end as told through the human body

which fancies thinks and feels itself for the first time

the form of life’s story is offered and worth a bid -

how here born among the absurd where selfish death is inexplicable

look for it bear it in seasons what Man remembers

and further by it seeks new adventures

mythopoetic mentality, atomic people

and however formed the words will be modern matter

always shown increasing blood flow to the heart warming extremities

sure…and the Texans will take notes talking strange brew in rhythm

well chosen top of the line good stuff - that’s why we stay -

this is lux emerging from the crystal decanter n’

we have them curious looks - I’m living here now smoking — cheerfully smoking the next word out

drawing up a list for the street (it can hear)…there is a crowd outside who made up today a holiday

if you wanna bite of bright sunshine moonlight -

we’re supposed to

was told you might…look, this ain’t - I mean, you could leave

on the way outta sight…

Chris Weige | Texas | 2006 

Filed under feathers

  

 

Thrift Store Books: Photography 1977

Index cards included

Poets Postcards

Notes on Um, Movers & Shakers, Inc

Um, Movers & Shakers, Inc

Rise Lazarus lasers
Circle gets a square off
For the movers & shakers

Eden ankh ontological favors
Phoenicians in plain sight
Schware an egger

The Shakey myth: Groundhog Loop,
A Book of Clews
By Horseplay