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Reckon

The Whole World's A Stage | Share a key intuit

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(Notes on) Gold Boon and Her Unstoppable Dope

 

Sugar in a space book makes a dazzling doorway,

Extra salt sequenced RNA in the the red hot DNA extra butter

makes a dazzling doorway to gold boon and her unstoppable dope parade

 

Sugar in a space book purring so tender tough, so sonic coming on with 

drug words rug burning in the anytime moonlight day broad lit 

sculpting diamonds in the shade pecan and pine parade at the fair Midway

 

There go all the rides and prizes...

that is to say, how poem cut a hole in time where we merge hand crafted,

veiled in underlined overarching over time oscillations  

body art buzzing magnets in the bag  

 

was the word  

pretty tough stuff

how poetry works a diamond

pretty touchy stuff

outta sight silent even better multi D sex telepathy 

handwritten verses born in a Deep South dream state  

or maybe wide awake

 

are you have you ever been? 

hear that earbell lobe  

overwritten elemental controls

hear that heavy metal song racing once more 

from the beginning right after yr eyes unfroze  

 

We awoke in Electra or Paris myth making legends

red hot and in tune  

Prime time women In Los Angeles growing Los Angeles making real dazzling doorways

jonesed for

by the royals and rejects, blue chips to collars, their super transfixed eyes mouths and ears

ignoring all the superSerious poets

Who are only joking

Writing about living in Los Angeles moaning

Growing Los Angeles wings

tasting the TV muse evermore electrified in this thing

this backward masking tv movie with angels in lingerie 

 

brands baring it all makin a buncha dazzling doorways  

harmonic balanced brains and booty, a direct line

To gold boon if you can sing too,

Sell everything

at the crosswalk for gold boon and Her 

Red hot donut-shaped something-or-others, big blimp masters

Peanut galaxy pimp mastered

But no one knows this?

 

(Nobody reported) no one noses or notices the distortion (send more)

Smell the coffee and bacons, American creature

The angles of words make many doors with nifty features

And look damn sexy doing it...

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Sunday 05.18.14
Posted by Reckon
 

The Most Expensive Word in History

by Dan Piepenbring / The Paris Review

Aram Saroyan’s lighght

http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2014/05/01/the-most-expensive-word-in-history/
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categories: poetry, art
Friday 05.02.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on Bob Dylan's Jazz Bands

Bob Dylan's jazz band plays music that would make even the biggest somebody change into more, and a large bunch of littlests at that

Get born

blow their horns in their Broadway bodies

Dream singing in way out sunglasses down Pendulum Road where he kissed the girl in the transparent clothes

It was legendary

She was a sweetheart from someplace where they plow and grow cool girls who hate fur coats

Girls who love Lucille Zora Neale & Rimbaud, strange sweethearts in the full color flesh world, sugar bones with unabashed unabated sunburnt backs dashing this way and that,

All along the hills they sing x-rated songs, forwardly flirty hot shots in sunglasses on the hillside,

Sex symbol scenes or Nimble Sweethearts growing warmer getting going as the sun dips down on the turn

She sears in

She starts purring

She sees us bashful things unlearning & sneezes 

(squirting) 

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Sunday 04.13.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Love & Rockets: It seems like you are not like the American cowboy...

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categories: Comedy, Word
Sunday 04.06.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on Gin (Way More Fun)

 

Jen inside on the inside jen

The engine is purring

Light bear or lizard thing

 

Shiny people in shades see further

In every direction

The hottest angels

 

On the catwalk closer to God's

Whatchamacallit unmentionables

Leading ultimately to secrets

 

Or at least one

And you're guaranteed the lips telling it

Will be fully insured

 

-- M-M-M-Monica in the engine room (Way more fun)

 
categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Saturday 03.29.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Vodka and Lime Juice, Hello

my makeup got all messy, damn.

vodka got in my eyes. 

and lime juice, hello. 

 

my eyes, my eyes, burning.

my hair is super wet. 

i gotta repaint my nails, okay. 

 

thank you SO much. 

 

 

 

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Saturday 03.29.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on Apple Pi

Who knows how

words make mail udderly feminine

The fox knows

the little chicken

the sphinx nose

the nightly noose

The trixter rabbit with the 14 karats 

Fourteen carrots

(Fortean)

to be sure

I wrote her a let her

About a cosmic Capri Sun Pentacost maze

littered with kooky computers eyes ears ladybugs

billy goat water gates

Ram for the mouse memory

and apple pi in every window

 

who knows now but the mouse putting up the flag on the male box

to alert the delivery man

about a love letter called

Adam's apple chakra (get the balance right and blend)

Or, How Words Make Mail Utterly Feminine,

stranger strangest friend


 

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Saturday 03.29.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Automat Ons

automatons converted  drew in dismantled

brought into the fold  made one's own

took over 

trap doored  homogenized  neutralized  absorbed

derailed  defunded  delisted

enfolded

bought and sold  stifled authentic  

auto-tuned shit to gold, I mean gold to shit

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Saturday 03.29.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on Sheep Knew Nothing

Sheep knew nothing counting people

transfixed by fingerprints and flashing lights

retina scanners darkly daring

sheep knew nothing sleeping on their feet

dancing and driving in dreaming

it was risky to wake them

and no one wanted to fake it or halfway fk& betray it neither

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Saturday 03.29.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Think of all the awards there are for being human

 

think of all the awards there are for being human

the rewards in paranoia, the strength of organizations, money

(he is the new bewildered opiate and will outlive commodity)

why not?  it is necessary and useful to all god poetry committees

is the smell of vast communication through poetry

(what the orgasm must bring)

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Saturday 03.29.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Your Real Face

This breath may get you accidentally high  so get close with the rhythms,

so close you might crawl inside  in the shape of a sun licking tongue

attached to a hundred wild fingers

extraordinary  

yr on    in the shape of your feet in my pockets  your real face  your lips  your real mouth full

of ink, your eyelash dawn

yr on    and  so close  so close 

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Friday 02.28.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Limited Hangout

H/t JB
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categories: Word
Friday 02.28.14
Posted by Reckon
 

All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace

Richard Brautigan
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categories: poetry
Monday 02.17.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Gene Spicer Recipe (Mix 1 Cup of Necessary)

 

A breath it will talk, it may bring up the voice box vagina thing

It may if it pleases and it may breathe honestly  

It may whistle at a long leg kitty, breathing

In electric light climbing up the green street light lamp

It might also climb a tree an elephant or a billboard and camp

It might whistle some, if you listen,

Hear it pronounce valiantly wooden apple, plum, bluebonnet bath,

Kitten.

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Monday 01.27.14
Posted by Reckon
 

The Saucy See-Saw

 

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In the world of polarities, anytime you rigidly identify with one polarity you strengthen the other. 

~ The Saucy See-Saw

categories: inverted commas
Saturday 01.18.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Amber Tamblyn Poetry Spinach

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Seriously Them

The way They Amber Tamblyn

Poetry Spinach

 

A Donnean is juiceless in

With a poached energizer and

The loosely Ancylostomatidae

 

Of a curette

Correctness into

The wormhole.

categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Friday 01.17.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Tuxedo

 

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Jean-Michel Basquiat

categories: art
Friday 01.17.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Where this cotton used to be

I imagine a dancing body

In one deck of playing cards a lifetime concert:

Spanish guitars and stickers, laughing white weeds.

Where this cotton used to be: peanuts.

I am filled with strange blood, I am armed with Bermuda.

Save the fireflies, cut the lights on.  What is with these broken wings,  this chorus of cordless feet  movin the marvelous words pulling weeds:

Irrigation pipes and engines, an intricate pulse-maze.

Where this crop circle used to be: a manger.

I see the song in the flesh, the lightest rug and see-through face; facsimile nation, leash this broken star, enliven graves.  What is with this pool of scenery,  these symbols and holy human shadows?

What is with this place?

Chris Weige | Somewhere on Earth | Share a key intuit  

categories: Chris Weige, poetry
Friday 01.17.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on Meteor Weather Music

Mythos in motion
Mix ups over the bad guise
Dust ups in the mind's eye
For each tv party a program
A lozenge flickering light potions
Cures for insomnia
Mend weed water wine & chocolate
Ice cream caramel swirl
Meteor weather music
Hooked on phonics
Sugar speed remembering

How to read

. 

tags: Poetry
categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Friday 01.17.14
Posted by Reckon
 

Notes on Smoke Tricks and Fast Cash Cactus

Crystals in the coffee brew bro

Open source code open sewers commode

Dynastic broods brooding down Hollywood Blvd

Counting all the cobwebs collaged

Underground and in the corners

Rats and stars under your feet

Or high overhead I overheard Wall Street

Cashing in while you were sleeping, inebriated,

Passed out at the bar after batting practice.

I heard you bet on both sides and mediated.

Fast cash cactus.

tags: Poetry
categories: poetry, Chris Weige
Friday 01.17.14
Posted by Reckon
 
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