Monday, March 27, 2006

Graeme Jamieson ~ Descendissent & Two-Paced Poverty of Mind


I'm not a New Yorker,
Though I do own a monocle,
While my ol' Pict patrimony
points to an apple-eyed,
retroactiview of
and unification,
as the static,
pentagrammatic avowals
of all new nouns, towns,
and nations.

Two-Paced Poverty of Mind

Madness creeps.
Ofttimes it leaps.
In the still of airs.
Or with solar flares:
Stuttering to move.
Often cutting a groove.
Like Mythe: If only slightly so.
Or/either: intending to cop and blow.
Upped or magnetically Poled.
More by way of through-put.
Leaving not, nor bulbs or fruits.
Lest there are roots therein.
Where iffy splendidz begin.
a hungering junkie.
With heavy permeability.
High in man de tact.
Tangled thick with time,
one de facto lacks:
Heel-toed spirit-levels.
Mist is.
Tipped for riches and gifts.
Dipped in a reality of grift.
While illusion carves its bent,
Dial delusion, curve the scent.
Extracting feelings to bury.
Retract reality: Hurry.

Graeme Jamieson

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