Two Untitled Textual Poems by Darren Wyngarde


human domestic on Green Dong?
a constant cloaks death

tentacles mob dog?
tape me

horse emits illegal buildings?
magnetic bog

Oh mud?
carry it to the graveyard


Remember magic broken hotel, hand maintained. Curtains of piss,
domestic girls underneath memories close convulsions saturated boiled
in calamity. Typical U.R.A job. Always in orbit. Don't gas the
strippers. Don't touch the tentacles.  The door has screaming rhythm.
The shades are slimy. Uncontrollable monsters. People die. It's
disturbance, the yellow ticket. There slithered my mandible ghastly
and distressed in obscure time. I can't find the stairs.

No comments:

Post a Comment