signifier of hats, hell and other passerons non passeron Norman Bethune Norman ebbthune

We the arbiters of pOetRee have just discovered another Space APace of living human flesh! a body language not some whore trap of a speakeasy rap!

how can we hold our snot high and speak?
pray tell as waves rut our knots the blather gane
of the toe whine pot on the pitter-patter
snacks and snoozes abOund the Pain of Reek

inta' the reck of your rook and the took of
all this shingledangle the rack of spook
and haunt of wank and about of root
shall slander the wank of thy pablum's

father and master thee recording of your rheme the rhyme of your meter a heart pacer 'breaking' down as a dissertation does its cousin in in the ass your tattler
of taste

shall fake her rook not so the sender
of ender
and the telegrammatical of pate
Have with you! Knave brain! thy foolscaps have no gown!
no rule to marry your t'rude!


Once upon a time in the blogging of the American dominations of poetry the language police enforced their signifier called Criticism and Theory it was not the snot of the onlie path to becomings but was the Hail Mary's of her Grace some death baby on the slaughter

as these abouts were twinning their hots they began the seat of 'judgment' . But the eaRth was not there.

it was ....

somewhere else between the ellipsis of double-jointed knees and


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