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touka Nov 2021
a lone something in the sky
flies near, just by mischance
dazed by the smog,
bowing
and diving
downward
into the parting, cracking,
quaking
bellowing of tar
from the firy, sputtering lungs of these alps
eons worth of cries released in mere mouth-ajar gasps
of the earth diverging and converging
into the debt of always running clean,
running me
always downward,
as in the deep
deep
tessellations of rock
I become.

too still for my own good,
I guess –
another voice on the ash-flow tuffs of
breath to fill the mosaic
of sinewy
stripe-patterned goodbye and bygone
plating into the deep,
deep,
deeper caverns of the unseen sea
slipping off the mantle, an accident with intention,
as an echo caving downward into  

nothing,

nothing,

more

nothing

polluting the depths from the palisades,
scripture rupturing lowshore into
surrounding tissues like
igneous stone
dreams of clinks ringing,
of noise
a voice
on the ash-flow tuffs
in the always running-clean water
the purity of which I intercept,
the clear-ness of it;
a sinners window.

through what's left,
I see the clam
another mouth for and of the sea
unseen,
the pearl
as unsoiled as ever
b for short Mar 2014
We cannot call it my "mind" today.

It's better defined as
a malfunctioning mess
of kaleidoscopic hiccups—
untimed bursts of glitter,
and mismatched shapes.

Curves clash with angles,
overlap, transform, repeat,
until the nonsense makes sense;
until the noise becomes
a soothing hum.

Without warning,
the improper becomes
the most mouthwatering idea
we've had the pleasure to rouse.

Composed of little
ten-second films of us,
bare-skinned in low light,
shifting in tempting tessellations
that bump and spiral
in heightening rhythms
just behind my eyes.

Such thoughts
were never meant
for a box—
rather a shape
more taunted and tantric.  

These.
My wax-dipped daydreams
that do not beg
a single sip of permission.
© Bitsy Sanders, March 2014
Julianna Eisner Mar 2014
Patterns form across convex corneas
Geometric portraits of tangram animals
Hexagonal-faced lions
Triangular-trunked elephants
etc.
Tessellations of
anagrams
Draped over rods like Batik fabric smoothed over king-sized beds
Calculating Bayesian probability on fingertips
rote
styles
Whispering, "Carry the 1!" to columns of 100s
with a remainder? Try again.
Plot Cartesian coordinates with mechanical pencils
click! click! click!
Crying, "Awwwww.....
                                  you
                                        sunk
                                                my
                                                     battleship!"
Voice  over: "You sunk his battleship!"
Lilith Meredith Apr 2013
I loved you, yes.

Once

You soothed me cool cool water on a burn
You rocked me gently napping in your arms
     resting in a sunlit motel room.

I grew to love your company
The simple existence of a warm body in the same room
To desire your lazily listening ear
I learned to lust for shapes that did not my body fill
To moan for groan for
Forced tessellations roughly holding down my hips
     in demeaningly false passion.

I loved you once
But was quickly weighted left hand bending
     toward the dirt under the ceiling of your bed chamber
          “My love do not leave me you
          cannot leave me you will
          never leave me you will learn
          to love me hunchbacked lonely.
          My love my sweet my dear.

          My pet.                                       “

I drowned in the heat of your sweat
Filling my lungs bursting with salt
Filling my organs with your clammy salt
Curing my love bitter shriveling dried my heart
     preserved for future consumption no longer
     pumping warm blood bleeding aching no longer
     throbbing stinging longing soaked in blood
     no longer beating .buhduhn.buhduhn.buhduhn.
     living bleeding my heart no longer pouring
     sweet blood from her mouth into thirsty veins.
A cured lump of jerky fell from my breast
     onto the floor and I looked on indifferent as the dog
     took it in his mouth.

I loved you once
I sobbed childish little girl confused in your absence
Upon your return arms vines twisting clinging
     to your steady torso
Flowering my gently parting lips eager to pour forth
     my nectar into your life to sweeten
     your life
I only wanted to be sweet for you.
You unearthed me chopping roots clinging
     desperately to cool moist earth
You unearthed me peeling tendrils from your walls
     wrapping me in a ball and tenderly bringing
     me inside through the side door
You unearthed me dropping me in a too small ***
Pruning pruning roughly trimming flowers falling
     to the floor I only wanted to be sweet for you
     now daily thirsting in your window nectar
     no longer flows now daily drying my leaves
     soft plush foliage bursting green browns
     falls crisp to the table I only wanted to
     be sweet for you now daily dying browning
     petals fall from my cheeks to the table and
     I wilt as the cat takes them in her mouth.

You loved me once.
Lindy Feb 2015
No laughs and no apologies
The door was left ajar
“You may assist yourself at the mezzanine.”
girls cascade as men pose
strategically
in shark skin suits
like swimming tessellations
corners fit against corners
bait fish schools
Moving in murmurations
No one ever looks up
at the ocean top glass ceiling
Their eyes are aimed downwards
waiting to see a massive shadow rising up
from the sea floor
No one knows what goes on down there
down where the sand is so cold,
where the flesh of the bait fish drift and
the ***** pick at remnants on whale bones.
Keely Anne Mar 2013
i wish playing ukelele didn't remind me of you
i wish the beach didn't remind me of you
i wish fireworks didn't remind me of you
i wish you didn't wear that one cologne that everyone wears because it reminds me of you and i smell you in every wannabe prepster boy that passes me on his way to the pencil sharpener
i wish other girls didn't remind me of you because you're always talking to them but not me
i wish holst suites didn't remind me of you, particularly the first
i wish sunrises didn't remind me of you
i wish late nights didn't make me think of you
i wish the ghost of your skin didn't haunt this entire town
until i am seeing tessellations of your silhouette in the brick walls you pressed me against
i wish i weren't afraid to call you
i wish you'd call me first
i wish that song didn't remind me of you
and by that song i mean that entire folder of songs on my computer,
the one entitled whatever because that is all you were supposed to mean to me
but now, you are more, more than a whatever
and whatever did i have to dream of before i kissed you?
i wish i could sleep
but the morning reminds me of how i'll never wake up next to you
3/1/13
Neobotanist May 2019
The early morning sun filters through the lace of the curtains,
to form delicate patterns on dewy skin
 
I watch you, taciturn, take the tessellations
and convert them into mathematics
so that we can enjoy them later as music:
light, tangible form.
 
Exactly twelve hours later, you point out to me
the star that we came from:
a pinhole light
in the soft velvet, overhead abyss.
 
'Why can't we remember anything?' I ask,
and you just smile.
I pause to give a glance fleeting
to see you look up through wet lashes
And when your dark eyes lock on mine
All I see are windows
Heidi Kalloo Aug 2014
Under the evergreens I take your hand.
Clutching you I discover a similarity.
Your nails are brittle and stained edges of the pinecones.
Beneath the fingertips crammed dirt and sand.
Who knows what else lies under there, I don’t want to.
Rubbing you the wrong way, the nails drag and snap.
The opposite direction feels silky, wooden.
One cone detaches from a limb, falls in our lap.

Hands smelling of old forest’s deaden life.
Smelling of all school chapel outside.
Wonder if Dieu meant for us to smell that way.
Wouldn’t he have put it in the good book?
Dirt and what else flies through us in each new breath.
I feel the evergreen within me calling out.
What is He saying to you with that aroma?
Perfume ourselves in eau de pomme de pin.

Woven together our palms become a pine cone.
Notice tessellations of body parts and cones.
Where I stop, you begin, overlapping, lapping.
Blossoming and wrapping till we reach a point.
Forever is hardly a romantic concept.
However, the trees manage to keep green each winter.
Falling all around us, hitting the brown needles, cones.
Jesse Haydn Jan 2021
i used to have the feeling
that everything was trying to tell me
something; but everything does
if the timing is right
the right words won’t come
(i almost lost it)
the answer:
it is about you
it is both deep and
above you
in the smoke
the blooms
the tessellations
of the trees
(the sway)
once i saw the face of god
i could never look away

-Jesse Haydn
kevin 2d
Estranged Liberty
I represent Amnesty International
Homekey +
Food is a business not a writing

This is the AFL-CIO labor union budget demand

Irish

asmirwin cagovernor mikeytaylor realdonaldtrump repbrownley tonybiasotti latimes nytimes lapdhq nypd

#callutheran #nytimes #washingtonpost #nbcnews #foxnews #tonybiasotti #aoc #repcarbajal #berniesanders

I'm just a poet and resident poet of California thousand oaks Ventura


The measure in terms of indifference against the university is lost lives in poverty

poverty
callutheran
#callutheran #nytimes #washingtonpost #nbcnews #foxnews #tonybiasotti #aoc #repcarbajal #berniesanders


berniesanders
#vcpublicdefender #venturapolice #vcsheriff #sbcpubdef #bbcnews #dailymirror #declanwalsh #realdonaldtrump

Today I consume 1$ worth of cold noodle soup

Love is an angry thing


#vcpublicdefender #venturapolice #vcsheriff #sbcpubdef #bbcnews #dailymirror #declanwalsh #realdonaldtrump


Later eaves repair
After the tarnish
Undone in scatter
A mired filth
As tame nill quilt

Sonnets Before Surrender & The Building That Follows

The war refuses the head, below wasting in dead
Rearing the front as storms fell the timbers rot
Upheavals breast, shorn and filled in neglect
Lay useless she had cried, allow dimple and deny

Tis only folly we are joined from, seasons blurry
Contemptuous fury, theatrical brevity, lifeless
Burning misery, hasn’t all gone and come
Just so fiddle and spun, as garnish and lathe
Without soured breads fortune, and curled ears late

Forever they attend, a hearts creative bend
And rule they must, alas at lose in unbreakable crust
He in hand created this land, in tales of ferried rows
Gentled slave we musn’t hate, crucible’s labors as knave

In there buildings, craving and fighting, loud and obscene
Fruitful as flies, multiplying night skies
Crying babes of violence, unruly and brutal
Off again we should shout as they, steam filled hovels in suet



Narcissus was the inventer of the hot air balloon

I make new Japan flower to bring Irish blemish

They found me in French


Narcissus and tessellations
Her morning spent
In passions saint
Spilled buffoon
Mothered by noon

In stilled consequence
We arrived
Having been found
In upside down
Houred plaster
Confined in measure
Sill Aunt spill, deft of leverage



Tibet
A tid bit of distance from your remains.

Startled doors and war on floors.



Later eaves repair
After the tarnish
Undone in scatter
A mired filth
As tame nill quilt


She spent behind the city
    Haunted veranda of Sicily
Her mother's sister?
       Had she forgotten to write since?
The first daughter away from Italy
       Before her mystery in burdens named as foreign

The behaviour paused and absent faces
     The mimes of her part
Spoke finish of him in passing

I am foreign

She beguiles the pages from after I've relented
Traitor of soil

Today the geese wain
    Her gathering, florescent hateful summers
Defiance of shelter
    Mooring my vessels in war
Grand questions of my ability to remain

Remaking our affairs
  Her story?
      Mute

Ink, mine


American Jazz
American Jazz
Jails
Slaves
Waves at freedom
She at the door, too forgetful
Bothersome Invention war is
This is a far as a sound
As nearest minds kindly borrow
Works flat
And out the door
Slaves in jails
Forward my ship
On top and on back
Waters a ways to work
Laddles become hospitals
Without spoons
Only the together people
Lift down the cloths
Aprons run in country
We ain't had enough
Jails yet

This is beautiful

Your from that porcelain city
I'm New York poetry too
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025

Dedicated to Adrien Brody

Adrien I'm rapping with Rupi
Thank You


tickle the bourbons for it tonight


Sands hunt up a clarinet



In an Article
Building top
Walking while home goes around
Doorway sop
Whenever she won't stay
Making out in another part of me
Counting stands
Selling tombs down to hell as we
Fall apart
Torn numbers, towers
Calling hiding hours
Hate filled seconds from the soars
Feelings lost in gardens I couldn't afford
This angry tower isn't hiding
It's my way in outsiding
Leaving everyone dead
Your wars and shops attacked the bed
When does the bottle ever warm
Why doesn't rain carry more
Because I'm running out of blues
I'd rather have a nights last fuse
Turning off memories wild that way
I won't learn
Down in the street I hate to burn
Yesterday hasn't made it
Now it's another page I'm free
Free to stop the reading meters walking
Riding on the back of a child trying to cry
Every mournings different in my rain
I step out
Outside of all the noise
Last time she thought she could afford
Touching mes a worthless missing, door

Typewriters on the floor
I've gotta make it back to her shores
She won't lend me the hands
Its me verses spirits I can't stand

That's the room I'll never halve

Loves a left behind place Paris

I have one hot cup of coffee and a night to be



What It's Like
What It's Like
Don't be cool
Hate aloof
Cliche Spending is slow reading headlines
Lettings, yourself conceited
I wouldn't encourage feelings of me
Just raising the literacy rates
With Irish American letters is all time

But,  I'm somewhere at
Unstable and content
Introverting caution
Lived from wars before my own ink

Extroversion is an extra paragraph
NoTreasury department extortion
On copy desk before rents talked about

In the newspaper
You exist
As an exit
Misnomers a banking poetry song
Calculates make wedding vows
Acquire before you lives and skip

Thousand Oaks California is based
On thoughts of being poor
Building affordable welfare support

Pet Shop Boys
Watching model prisoner chicks
Who become victims of war ignorance
Unable to
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025



Without her
Voice without challenge hear
Here in city descriptions fears
As alone as hymnal
Founder often eaves.

Pole yearning lent
Brightly sadly sate

Carol as tall waltzing banging pots
Partly in the reading den
Party always misused


Veranda Bombs
Veranda Bombs

Read as Heading per Naval incident
"Now This!"
"Now This!"


As paragraph goes out of style
"Sue Anne the stars won't gather."

Veranda pan up too you
"Waking to a World in Peril?"
"Hopefully big things to come in our report"

Tell 'em what? Country

Special effects guys live on the trolley.
Tatas? Tatas.News?Tons.Coffee? Sugar? Happening


My brothers and I fill all branches
As peace will fill our wells
Vessels at ports
Our captains your tact
We weren't raised for better days
Yet we fill the nights with our cause
Irish American military officers assist
All locations on earth



Chicago
If You? Do Me!

They can get checked on!
Speak with it, don't press off!
Knowing trust lives around a bus
Terms this ride let's you rip off?
Irish

Window know

Threw your ears around
To come in late
Leaning eaves
Learning stairs
Because it stars
See it silver
Deliver it's me

Travis the darker my train
Dearest subway
Overt threatening arrival

Travis performance
A private visit
Off the road
Santa Barbara
Circa Jazz

Paris?

Canary yellow wings of warmth
Devastated Stencil consent to defeat
Around a body in water

Common and Kevin year 3

™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™

Jazz Composition
Common Verses Free
French Free Form Overature Jazz
5th 3rd overature
Circles.      2 twice trumpet
Haunting 3rd brass instruction
From further below
     Than rise

Chirps measure

Blackbird is the altered blues draw


Birds chirp in a paired 3 verses 3 top measure of 2 in line
Over 3 verses 3 verses 3
Bottom measure of 3 in line circling waters break in flight

3d's in a separated pair
Second pair drifts in to flight
Bottom row
3 b's lilting right lift
3 p's
Inverted taking notes
Hanging for eyes dear last measure
Forty five angled plight swoons seating oft

Canary yellow wings of warmth oil a canvas

™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™
kevin 3d
Narcissus was the inventer of the hot air balloon

I make new Japan flower to bring Irish blemish

They found me in French


Narcissus and tessellations
Her morning spent
In passions saint
Spilled buffoon
Mothered by noon

In stilled consequence
We arrived
Having been found
In upside down
Houred plaster
Confined in measure
Sill Aunt spill, deft of leverage
kevin 3d
After the tarnish
Undone in scatter
A mired filth
As tame nill quilt

Sonnets Before Surrender & The Building That Follows

The war refuses the head, below wasting in dead
Rearing the front as storms fell the timbers rot
Upheavals breast, shorn and filled in neglect
Lay useless she had cried, allow dimple and deny

Tis only folly we are joined from, seasons blurry
Contemptuous fury, theatrical brevity, lifeless
Burning misery, hasn’t all gone and come
Just so fiddle and spun, as garnish and lathe
Without soured breads fortune, and curled ears late

Forever they attend, a hearts creative bend
And rule they must, alas at lose in unbreakable crust
He in hand created this land, in tales of ferried rows
Gentled slave we musn’t hate, crucible’s labors as knave

In there buildings, craving and fighting, loud and obscene
Fruitful as flies, multiplying night skies
Crying babes of violence, unruly and brutal
Off again we should shout as they, steam filled hovels in suet



Narcissus was the inventer of the hot air balloon

I make new Japan flower to bring Irish blemish

They found me in French


Narcissus and tessellations
Her morning spent
In passions saint
Spilled buffoon
Mothered by noon

In stilled consequence
We arrived
Having been found
In upside down
Houred plaster
Confined in measure
Sill Aunt spill, deft of leverage



Tibet
A tid bit of distance from your remains.

Startled doors and war on floors.



Later eaves repair
After the tarnish
Undone in scatter
A mired filth
As tame nill quilt


Nirvana

Zazen
So I have caused no inheritance
I am suffering
As wisdom requests?
I am without a changed mind.
Having a buddhahood in a time
Is another rising mourning
Of another's regrets
To correct the objective

Zazen is popular excuse
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025

You attempted reading and writing for
Yourself

kevin 2h
Grounds Resentful
In time of myself
I am bound
To forget another
Stroke of genius
Unfinished
Mute response

Only hear
Home
Body

Grounds Resentful


To no
I approach
Hotly canvased increase
In despair
Joining
Lengthening the visit and
Friendly visit
Stilling the leaf
Exchange of ends
I the faltered respite
Atop a seasons young time
It, blind, endless spent rent of air
Below on end
I begin
In the sarcophagus of wasted treasure
It had wisdom and ran inwards
Leaf I became as rescued need



Spindles rot in emptied locks
Bitten butter custards letters


This first piece is honest

“Its just the wild wests
We live through ‘em
And we let our love
         go out
And find another reason
       To bother us
        In the evening”


“See how the trees turn away?
And the streams hide?
How that teaches us to cover
Up during different times of
The year?”

“Well it does that so we,
Don’t get caught out in the hunt
Crawling up the side of a wrong
Angle on a hill competing
For scents when we have
Provisions at home”

“Might get caught by a large
     Guardian of a den your
    Not supposed to bother”









“Homes a nice thing to talk about
Aint it kid?”

“Guess so”

“Guessing is good, lotta guessing growing
Up out in the wild”

“Hang your coat up”

“Its a delicate job balancing a house”
A lot of work for a rough spell
Provision like this one you are”

“I got some extra portions to get
Us going and in a few days i’m
Taking us out to work the land
And add a couple rows to the aisles
For you”

“You feel up to that?”

“I don’t know”

“That’s fine, we in no hurry out here."


The second is poetic inference
An expression of remorse
Keeping sane during times degradation of Civility as finance wars upon modesty

To a Park
A country is carved
      Out of wild ideas
Beyond a dream
      In reasons unclear
Without hands held high
     Only a strings chance
Of getting bye

   A gift from songs
In living, holding ponds
  Such company was kept
And let out and down
       Our houses

Setting scenes
               Encouraged and dreamed
Envelopes and locales
      Terrific and trashed
A trial in errors, emptying time
    Movements silent, brief and divine

A departure of history
     Taking in with family
A surge in pride
      Gentle homes held at night

Sasha, hope this works
For Rupi as Kendall
kevin 3d
A tid bit of distance from your remains.

Startled doors and war on floors.


dictatorial narcissism

Used against our president elect
The reading comprehension of duty in period of sentence finished
That all life is counted inside.

Our hours fill opposite the direction
As such inference of absurdity encourages stimulations pause that the water may retreat with somber reason.


Robert ***** request

Note As Kendall
Narcissus was the inventer of the hot air balloon

I make new Japan flower to bring Irish blemish

They found me in French


Narcissus and tessellations
Her morning spent
In passions saint
Spilled buffoon
Mothered by noon

In stilled consequence
We arrived
Having been found
In upside down
Houred plaster
Confined in measure
Sill Aunt spill, deft of leverage

Sill Aunt spill, deft of leverage
#kendalljenner #rbreich #asmirwin #cagovernor #vcpublicdefender #venturapolice #vcsheriff #sbcpubdef #lapdhq

— The End —