04 April 2007


Eve of all hollows, the children factor cruelty with population density, findings suppressed. An egalitarianism as extreme as last night’s mischief, moon’s appetite for leftovers. Authorial intention spilled as seas, the philosopher’s stone migrates North, Spicer steals his thing from the prince of thieves. Tip the maid and she’ll wake the unhappy hermaphrodites. Annihilate the senses be for rations of four-sided croissants, the line’s duty to frame the Last Judgement for dessertion. The Gothic sequel’s pizza boy bearing Taco Supreme enters your casket on all soul’s, I see him on the analogical mountain with Persephone and then never again.

1 comment:

Ian Keenan said...

The lines spoken through the bullhorn in Weekend (1967) are from the 9th section of the first Song of Maldoror by Comte de Lautréamont who is 161 today and the topic of today’s NaPoWriMo poem.

The editorial board of Piri’ Miri Muli’ does not condone violence, cannibalism, acrylic paint, etc., whatever that means: it means don’t kill me and eat me.