04-17-2025, 02:41 AM
This is so-called automatic writing based in a found and flowing rhythm guided by private connections, Affect and feeling-tones, definitional, linguistical speech and thought muscleplay-mental bumps and caresses.
This is the natural flow of sensual-oriented thought when tunneled into the experience of poem-making.
So how do you use this? Do you stick with the hermetic connections and make it work through contextual framing? or do you go line by line, cutting what gets in the way and connecting what amounts to some unity of effect?
I roar in my ruby ribcage
What is more important for you here? the sound of the words or the logical connections? What is the ruby connecting with: heart, lungs, sound, blood, love?
What are the correspondences between colors and sounds and body parts and actions and emotions and communication?
If there is no importance either way, making an importance is your first tool as a poet.
For a touch that spirals me down a meadow
Im busy with the business, I'm a cat in its cradle
I jump at sound
A cat jumping at sound is a good image and effect. But why the allusion to cat's cradle to begin with?
That question is the demarcation between arbitrary cliche of an on hand, readymade phrase and an Allusion proper.
That's enough to get you working.
I am in the middle and I grow hotter til a man whos got a goal like mine
Will see the soup im aging in
For a good old fashioned cookout,
Drink me!
feeling his wet pink throat
Letting its gelatinous texture, bring me to newness
I let go of the shears in my arms that hold a bent ache
I release it like a rope
And let my arms fall straightly
Till there out like post
And slither into a pressed stamp for letters, that i have to send for others
Making sense, of the unsensual
Characters that want volume
Alchemy that breaks on through
The wilds in which I hide behind is my lover, Who else could I touch
I could break the belts buckle any time, its the weather
Read by one staring component, Ushered through quirks
Wet carpet garnishes martyrdom, Lobsters cry as being manhandled
California cotton balls constrict my neck, my beach blonde washed me ashore
I'll drink to say the cowboy in me missing my horse feels alive again
Pressed jackets lay over hipsters kingdoms
Cameramen born to be examiners, Too free to change with growing pains of etiquette
Whales tails, St Andrews, Panic buys your mind like a dirty counterfeit
Words that don't call, They never do
Coo’in for your ribs, drawing on your flesh
Kissing it like a baby, Making elephant acts
Violence on the valley, asking what it means
silk white tops and open windows, you compliment my do
Never spoke to Kassi, but she's miles away now
Kids playing in neon like sugarcake,
I ask everyone “What are you all about?”
Love like a kite, Love like a knob you turn all the way
Castle the board for a finale
This is the natural flow of sensual-oriented thought when tunneled into the experience of poem-making.
So how do you use this? Do you stick with the hermetic connections and make it work through contextual framing? or do you go line by line, cutting what gets in the way and connecting what amounts to some unity of effect?
I roar in my ruby ribcage
What is more important for you here? the sound of the words or the logical connections? What is the ruby connecting with: heart, lungs, sound, blood, love?
What are the correspondences between colors and sounds and body parts and actions and emotions and communication?
If there is no importance either way, making an importance is your first tool as a poet.
For a touch that spirals me down a meadow
Im busy with the business, I'm a cat in its cradle
I jump at sound
A cat jumping at sound is a good image and effect. But why the allusion to cat's cradle to begin with?
That question is the demarcation between arbitrary cliche of an on hand, readymade phrase and an Allusion proper.
That's enough to get you working.
I am in the middle and I grow hotter til a man whos got a goal like mine
Will see the soup im aging in
For a good old fashioned cookout,
Drink me!
feeling his wet pink throat
Letting its gelatinous texture, bring me to newness
I let go of the shears in my arms that hold a bent ache
I release it like a rope
And let my arms fall straightly
Till there out like post
And slither into a pressed stamp for letters, that i have to send for others
Making sense, of the unsensual
Characters that want volume
Alchemy that breaks on through
The wilds in which I hide behind is my lover, Who else could I touch
I could break the belts buckle any time, its the weather
Read by one staring component, Ushered through quirks
Wet carpet garnishes martyrdom, Lobsters cry as being manhandled
California cotton balls constrict my neck, my beach blonde washed me ashore
I'll drink to say the cowboy in me missing my horse feels alive again
Pressed jackets lay over hipsters kingdoms
Cameramen born to be examiners, Too free to change with growing pains of etiquette
Whales tails, St Andrews, Panic buys your mind like a dirty counterfeit
Words that don't call, They never do
Coo’in for your ribs, drawing on your flesh
Kissing it like a baby, Making elephant acts
Violence on the valley, asking what it means
silk white tops and open windows, you compliment my do
Never spoke to Kassi, but she's miles away now
Kids playing in neon like sugarcake,
I ask everyone “What are you all about?”
Love like a kite, Love like a knob you turn all the way
Castle the board for a finale