Lumbolesh

Seeking the sun and feeling the sky,
the bumbledy centipede swerves and winds by –

Alchemy

Skimilvee this, and jorating us that
around the sculpting parapet.

A thaych from a hayd

In a thaych from a hayd, in different seldia
sailing and sauntering, lengly along –

Noisy Silent Nonsense

That noise is mostly silence
Like chatter in one’s mind,
Like giggling done by things that run
And wanting only to have fun,
But fun is hard to find.

The Red Tower

From “Remembering the Dead” by R. Saint Claire

 

THE RED TOWER

In the Red Tower
The planes mature
To a dance that beats
Red sausage links and iron ore.
 

Within a Dream

Within a dream the voice is real:
A shrill, struggling song.
A door in the floor, I open it
Unafraid and follow the sound.
A secret tunnel spirals underground;
 

balmy

When indespant and lonse,
the words open up
and breathe on me
barthey verses, to which I’m wont.

Among

Among the quichens grows a kree
a site-astoric flustsymbly.

A kree is there, not roneously,
but freet and gorl and groverly.

And how it came to grow just there,
the primmets wonder with atious care,

For quichens do not keep or share
their time or place or own elsewhere.

The Nonsense Song

Look at these jelly fish
Pumping in my head
Look at the splattered wish
Spilling off this bread