FLOP SWEAT NIMBUS

i woke up 

in flop sweat

suddenly very concerned

if many voicemails

i ever left

still rest on old tapes 

in junk drawer thickets
or lurk like spiders
saved in user accounts
in the ethernet nimbus

ABOUT HEADPHONES

the day has not been roses
&

it is hard 

to think about 

what it was like before
the corruption & misfires & spiders

& god is in the headphones
if anywhere

under asbestos sky 

on a sheetrock hill
flossing with a bass string

SOLAR LENTIGINES

the small blemishes

of oil splatter burns

from when i cooked steaks

gives me a glimpse
of my hands aged
with liver spots

& solar lentigines  

~

now my hands

creep me out
like sudden spiders

magritte big
wild with potential
& Unmine

& i clamp them shut

& pick three real things

against the ennui 

& marrow angst 

PICASA MADRIGALS, SPIDERS & HOVERFLY

PICASA MADRIGALS, OTHER IMMORTALS & MACHINES

1.

spin of the sprinkler

has

mesmerising majesty

i list

other immortals

in

my

phones

note

app

2.

people

over machines

cos

im a person too

remember

mice rule the garage

after spider abdication

WHO SHOT THE SUMMER

the grey-blue summer that crept
into
the
coffee cup kitchen at early dawn
is
only
a
postcard on the fridge door now
and
tho
the
fickle autumn may throw us facsimiles  
like
teasers
or
trailers
or
reminders
the 
farmers still burn their stubble down
and
stink up the streets with toilet fertilizers
and
the
little moths like rolled crucifixes
will
be
sat still or dead on the paint of indoor walls
and
all
the
cold and hungry spiders run up the lawn
to 
turn our high warm corners
into
guarded shelter
and
hunting grounds
and
night
will
creep down with a solid sadness
in
the lonely low tide of late afternoon
before
i
am
ready 
for it 
at all 

 from skadieverwniter.deviantart.com