Nov 5, 2014
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 2, 2014
DRAFT THREE by Tasha Klein mAY 13TH 2014
more foil-buckets
in the bucket of hell
toe-
rings
and pilgrim thighs
the messy dance to the pill ration
then we sit on a shiny couch
with the remote
harvesting all the channels
what are you trying to be? a
fucking poem?
here’s the thing:
telephones
corners
&
blurry destinations
the fear aches in my stomach
down in the cafeteria
bones echo
empty
words
stick to paper
sometimes a nurse drifts by
[that
crushing submarine
war tide]
suspicious vermilion hair - only cloud marrow
I look at the drowsy in your eyes;
a mirror
Sep 30, 2014
STAY AWAY FROM CRAZY by Tasha Klein
listening -
weighing words that are being stomped upon,
and the ones you can’t help;
stay away
from instruments of illusion.
stay away from portentous doors so wrinkled in time &
angled
by the sea.
remember:
auras give blue people
a raft and one more smooth
breath.
stay away from the voice.
which could trick you with its eyes,
its, tattoo-
kiss.
feel the burn of this
red visaged war;
sending hearts
to frighten cupids
before the gull returns home.
you could start the rising of a lighthouse
for the frozen.
or collect tears
from their dreams
knot a knot @
the cable’s - the street
of circumstance,
a mono strut beauty
commits aortic crimes.
she can’t help herself
so don’t throw yourself in front of the dancing dart
the rising nymph;
the sly, beautiful,
ambling witch
the ocean will bury
with massive shudders.
sadness is just an embedded scream, its center arched over love’s gigantic winter
moments
Sep 29, 2014
sometimes the cook does spit into the food
like a specter
falling
slowly
onto a bed
darkness in the sun
snowing down
a white
terrestrial atmosphere
god - these pills
sometimes
act as pistons
like
car alarms
now
only grazing the night
the nothing masters are rooted in their drunken
vomit
black jars in the trunk
i am what’s missing
the luminescent whisper
the erotic cloud refreshing the moon
tambouring solar love
let’s compare notes
shall we
,
el troubadour
:
swiped
thoughts
particulate
a wafflage of
emoji
revved into hallow eyes
,,,,,,,,,,
i’m not a bird
& i hate face-hook
i’m stuck in clono-pin-city
sky-lining wishes
and on spotify they say there is a hot dog you can trust
idk
tragedy eve to the sleeper:
you seem like you are going thru some sort of mid-life crisis
here, have an email bracelet
are you drinking your meme
because the jokes on you
yep. a mammoth morning - that’s my style
and you keep your killing regime in the relish
what do you promise those little girls
txt balloons?
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