Luke J. Holt

i awaken cast in gild
i have no breakfast
kind of like the Happy Prince
...

when the brook heaved its glowing yawns of morning into the heart's silted gully
a nest of white beasts stirs until nimbus beats the gales with clumsy weight
who is this shape in the swamp
why doesn't she blink
...

a Southwest planr
like a high-sheen
bi-partisan flag-shaped condor
reminds me of pie-graph colors
...

The fear of the near future
and what in it you will destroy
and how much of it is never indisputably yours
...

Vascular hued shapes
in a silly waltz
like my eyes are an auditorium of dazzled idiots
glittered doom
...

split the sea
part this maw agape and stuff in its moss-green jaws a soapy garland
to heal a starchy wound in a gut pumped with powderform smiles
in the anti-septic theater the spinner of gimmicks hold court in shade,
...

Laughter
yellow tendrils webbed in dew
blighted emergence
too much crying
...

My foil sands
are sad trails
that i know from watching the thickening silver of morn
...

The dull, inky vista of night ignites
he marched home
as if to say to no-one that he was coming
to imagine upon the helm of sleep a vessel in place of vacancy
...

The lunar milk is hot as wax
the gulls have ceased to drink
the skeleton is anxious and wants to swim
if i am to prevent your sovereignty
...

the hares have sensed the crumbling spires
like storms of bleeding stone.
this temple, our dungeon, is of fear's loftiest crystal.
for the castles of white have made warriors thirsty
...

The fog is at times yellow
like the must of the wolfs back in February
the winds make idiot laughter of our poised walls
melting our fear of shoes and laws and facts....
...

Where is air when my lips turn blue?
where is comedy when i sleep beside a ghost?
where is hope when sobbing comets twist in silted sky?
where is logic when the air dies and the shapes melt?
...

Your words were streaks of algae
in my heart
a bloated, rotting Leviathan
you killed before the clock of sea could claim its scales
...

I speak your name in times of reflection
in some enlightened moments
you reply
in others i can hear you scoff at my irrevocable devotion
...

i have become a seer by nourishing myself on daydreams

my fantasy diet
is provided by your loves distant factory

build me a winged boat with tablecloth sails
...

Most 10 year olds dont watch the morning news before school
the buzz of gobbling Froot Loops and slammin Sunny Delight as if it were the nectar of the golden sun itself contrasted sharply with matters of quarterly tax negotiations and recaps thereof.
The morning i decided to put on the first hemms of my proto-adolescent daddy-pants was that of September 10th 2001, was one that was likely not unlike any other broadcast at on Today in New York
i remember it being hokey, trivial,
...

The moon is wan and sallow
drenching us in her shafts of light
in yesterdays vision, i was inspired by a static aura
((violets))
...

A blushing little town
on the edge of a watery cloak
you wake up to fluffy eggs and feathers
kisses that tickle like tiny explosions
...

Trollish beauty is your white shadow
DANCE DANCE DANC
E.
makes you sweat brain-sweat
...