XENOPLEIAD
(The Lambsbread)
-For Dylan Donnelly-
XENOLITH
Skandha tissues crawling surrounding shallow veins
Expedient pinpoint needle tracks all tattoos are redeemed.
XENOPHILISTINE
A heigh-ho in trachoma’s,
the stroma of drunken pardons---shrunken head‘s jest “cheerio”
For all the wet-rat dapper bon vivants!
And the euphony is sulky symphonies of Neptune’s tuned timorous by DMTequila coxcomb’s crackerjack bounty of gee-tar calluses Spartan in Martian bivouacs taxed to cardiac arrest by a bovine plague of Volta plaques.
They could have gouged my look-alike van dyke of grease penciled 3rd Reich lip spikes for hunger strikes in sebaceous buckskins or burglarized my cretin indiscretions with serrated triceratops paraphernalia’s but they chose you.
There were automotive pileups, Neanderthals buried in pollen shrouds,
Doktora of data havens and the herons of heroin Ontario probity humanized by the
teeth-whitening waves of seed grenades.
XENOPALASTINE
Long live in the hemistich a mustached buffalo of psychonauts luddite mystique!
A seven string assassin of speed-trap courtiers
In this duchy of polyps catalytic for Dutch masters faint.
Your Sonoma coma short-lived their Durban poison lambs bread..
“I’ve got a whole lot of nigrified raiment’s in this Walpurgis wardrobe ” he thought
“Don’t even need to wear no vicarage antlers!”
And I’ll goose-chase and goose-step like a startled solar calf into the tires of 2002 Toyota in a no fault state.
XENON (LESSER)
No ‘callabo shit’ for you or I comrade and the vestments sunkissed you…
And the teething ménage unite for one trite night once a queer
year to eat the prescribed meal of auto-glass and 9-W anemone.
And I eat from her hand maggoty trick-or-treat torrones and dimples rear in a one-room cellar of negroid Passovers as the smoke clears.
XENOPHILADINE
How real the way the tow-truck turns tricks and hurtles stomachs and mutters with rag doll physics.
Church body primary! Zero growth society!
Useless eaters nocebo! State sponsored placebo!
Eaten by the sky! Beaten by the kind!
Final greetings, stoning heathens,
Maintained inane by the droll amen’s of ecstasy technicians, made my amends again but they’ll never claim your name again.
XENOPLASTICINE
And she stopped with all the diaries,
And closed the dust-plugs on the cap of her skull,
Because a journal unread by outsiders is a journal best left unwritten.
XENON (PROPER)
And she said “I’ll lift a burnished mosque of tone-deaf pedestrians with my mock-claws and hoax laws or was it jaws in the ambiguity of tendril tidelands viewed in their particle nature.
A young lass named Jesus astir with rivière bugs below gaga skins amorets and bayonets, tripped-up/pimped-out malcontents are slavery personified in SNCC chemistry.
And mankind and kind blah blah blah…
And I held you in jade,
And I held you in jade.
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