coda : ouroboros / n+1 thru n+15 …
the dying day teethes
on the tin tautology of exiles
eight o’ eight rogues away
bayside shambles catacomb
the toothy bride-to-be
seizes the singed week
with violent shanks
& ratters the bayside clear
distant madmen whir
the muted stars reappear
in refracted water-light
then bared
the incursions of the night
“My poetry is disjunct, but then so is life. Poetry comes to me out of thin air or out of my unconscious mind. It’s sort of the way dreams come to us and the way we get knowledge from them …”
— John Ashbery
thee istsfor manity reader 