Thought I had lost this, but found it among old papers. I wrote it a long long time ago. Another lifetime it seems like. It was originally a cut-up poem but I kept messing with it.
digits
the fingers are mounting up
for an offensive against the mutinous toes
in alleys where the dead were dragged
the fingers look like cabbages
lined up for harvesting
under the mouths of exploited technologies
the fingers will lick the toes
after streaming chlorophyll
onto them: quality obsessed costumers
the fingers are colored by different rays of yellow
as bones bleed onto pages of returns on stockholder's equity
the fingers are cutting themselves off with razors and staring
with great commercial success
the fingers are tripping over regions where the sky
crunches beneath the feet of giants
and sandwiches barbed with prongs
the fingers scratch away at patches of dirt over sores
in a win-win solution of trade channels
draining the world of imagination
where skulls have been left out to dry in the clouds
the fingers are swelling 20% a year in sales
while the company balloons are left
scattered over peach fuzz and cactus
prickly joints crack and clatter
over cut out teeth
-Joseph Owen
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Thursday, August 16, 2018
writing through the sanity block
how to scream when commercials are so much louder
softness strains
the most interesting movement where
sand and glass
flesh and paper
sky and light
filaments and synapses are
frozen on my tongue
the most interesting movement where
sand and glass
flesh and paper
sky and light
filaments and synapses are
frozen on my tongue
so scream until skies catch fire underwater
and atonal fears
vanish under the weight of shards
of stars
holding scattered dreams
washed out by moonlit stone
vanish under the weight of shards
of stars
holding scattered dreams
washed out by moonlit stone
how to repair
chemical thoughts
shining silent now before the snapping electric sound
deep breath and heartbeat through veins
eyes
sun’s burning contrasted with the haze
bordering the mountain’s solar patterns
of rainbows in storm red flashing into
a state of consciousness that slides into mesmerizing spheres
of brown blue green orange pink
chemical thoughts
shining silent now before the snapping electric sound
deep breath and heartbeat through veins
eyes
sun’s burning contrasted with the haze
bordering the mountain’s solar patterns
of rainbows in storm red flashing into
a state of consciousness that slides into mesmerizing spheres
of brown blue green orange pink
vision induced catatonia of magnetic silences
the sky will flesh out what has been broken
Joseph Owen
Joseph Owen
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)