Illuminiferous Poem by luke holt

take me to a stoned village
where people don't use names or cars or shoes
hot electric dharmas sizzle like melting china
O, carcass of muse
O, withering fuse

tilt my clowning queen
brittle buxom broads whirl like burlesque neon insects around you.
bearded purple embers glisten upon barbarian quasars

the childhood cemetery leads through hip crude circles
great quadrilateral ceremonies transpire there
the juju of sex is a wicked brew
i come to you

conceptual rain
sugars and salts hailing like silver sunlight
sylphs cry
deserts dance
widows weep for shaven boyfriends in foolish green brigalia
sucking ash and venom from distant reveries