Friday, August 28, 2020

mIEKAL aND : INCAN’TATIONS FOR PETER GANICK





This word I have in my head is splintered into many indecipherable fragments—a neuropalimpsest of the Yet to Be.
If the world is a cake you are the frosting.
I wish the future would hurry up and get here.
the air of intrigue is scented with the slippery passion of the ineffable
The moon is a communist.
Reality, really?
UTOPIA is a just a time machine away.
When you start to hear ethereal alcohol-infused voices, it' a sure sign that it is time to break the typewriter out!
The library is not COMPLETE without you.
That's not what that poem means, but you can think that anyway.
I didn't really say that, so don't quote me.
such a lovely and welcome distraction, these thoughts of pomegranates
Eager to please, the verb became a noun.
I'm sorry, I can't be your subtext forever.
There's never been a better time than tomorrow.
He brought the house down with his inability to express even the most simple of astonishments.
Godot is my co-pilot.
The figure of the lone poet on the top of the big hill yodeling to the sunrise.
My time machine just got stuck in the snow.
Clumsily, I dropped the word on the floor and it shattered into a million little pieces.
The probability you will understand vs the likelihood the message decays into forgetfulness.
In my dream last night I was drinking Cat Wine. No other details are forthcoming.
Imagine pulling a book of poetry off the shelf and reading it.
If poetry books had more pictures people would be more likely to open then up.
This statement has been stripped of all poetic and artistic intent.
I apologize if you feel like I've been ignoring you, but the End of History has me in a tizzy.
if was was was then is isn't is.
Your suitcase is inside out.
The words for things are not the same as the words for not things.
It's become clear to me that I was an organ grinder in my last life.
Do dogs think to themselves "it's a human's life?"
In my dream last night I was drinking Cat Wine. No other details are forthcoming.
If everyone I know is a poet, who will fix my toilet when it breaks?
In the interest of Science I will never be a scientist.
Yesterday is a dusty piece of luggage with a broken lock.
The sudden accumulation of discrete phenomena multiplying beyond expected outcomes.
This text zooms to infinite resolution when tickled with fancy.
The poetics of the Afterlife are altogether too quiet.
Never again will I spend 35 years writing a long poem.
Robust captions compensate for lackluster content.
Nevermind the messiness, it's the divine breath lurking in the nooks and crannies that is the source to die for.
raconteur of juicy tomorrows the lips of which
The tear in the fabric of the time-space continuum is a syntax malfunction.
Nothing better than a micropoetry reading.
Micropoetry meets Conceptual Poetry in a bar. Micropoetry says, "Do I really have to read that?"
First order of business at the 1st International MicroPoetry Congress is the presentation of one word (or less) manifestos.
I've just been informed that all events, people, objects, and memories of this universe are held together by an invisible goo.
Micropoetry is taught in every college and university in the US and they don't even know it.
MicroPoetry is the cavier of New Literature.
Cake is a vegetable.
In the aftermath of Literature and Great Books—MicroPoetry.
MicroPoetry is the silver bullet that will bring the State to its knees.
What if you don't want to put the lime in the coconut?
The storm of the senses meshes the edges.
MicroPoetry neither shies from controversy or courts unneeded attention.
The Church of Tomorrow closed yesterday.
Once again a Time Machine malfunction prevents me from giving birth to myself.
MicroPoetry is not a movement, no more than Poetry is a corkscrew.
A MicroPoetry franchise is available at no cost to you. You simply have to believe.
welcome to the carillon of impending noise
For reasons known only to the Author, I have never worn a tie in my life.
The plants just told me they have no use for poetry.
That book can never be finished.
My blanket statement about the state of affairs is a hand-me-down quilt.
If I wasn't a pacifist, I'd be sweating bullets right now.
If I must curry favor, at least make it spicy.
Posterity is a cloud.
In case you were wondering the Philosopher's Stone is dirt.
Can I put you on hold? I have ants crawling up my leg.
Instead of a constitution, a country founded on nursery rhymes.
Do not ignore the man in the brown paper wrapper.
This is a cute picture with a witty saying that you will want to share with all your friends.
That possibility has yet to be invented.
Sometimes I wish the moon was further away.
Gentle Reader, yeah right.
a virtual grab bag of useless consonants
I turned the wrong way and arrived at my destination.
there are bodies but they haven't been told what to do
...whereas velocity describes the speed with which TextSound bypasses cognitive functioning...
I feel like a half-naked duck smoking a cigar in a sauna waiting for some eggs to hatch.
In the perfect universe, a perfect universe exists.
Today, I will write a poem with a broom.
Is that a productive use of your time?
The anarchist squirrel-chaser greatly improved the psychogeography of the underlying habitat.
Don't be embarrassed by the tendency to confuse novelty with innovation.
I could be a rattlesnake.
nickel and diming the armageddon of the senses
A most dangerous poem is on the loose and has been spotted fornicating in an alley. Give me a machete and a book of poems and I'll give you a haiku!
The poems evaporate and perspire like an old fat surrealist.
SHUG is not a valid word.
the story has no end and no beginning
I just misplaced the alphabet.
the poetry cloud is saturated
I'm not who you thought I was.
The retraction is in fine print at the bottom of the page.
If you're jumping on the bandwagon, don't forget your instrument.
Chupacabra wrote a poem and it had babies.
the edge of the edge is still an edge
under the cover of dark, I removed the vowels from your soliloquy
It was a kerning disaster of universal proportions.
wombat as a verb
Fire sale on antiquated beliefs. Everything must go.
Haven't people always talked to chairs?
The frog in my throat thinks it's a kangaroo.
Trade your poems in for a shovel and gloves.
The taskmaster is bankrupt. Pleasure is the forgotten currency.
rock, scissors, elephant poop
Grumpy poetics is never satisfied.
Who writes these things anyway?
There's a flower on the tip of your tongue.
maximizing comfort while disassembling immodest assumptions
Just signed a lifetime contract to be an occasional poet for no pay and no posterity.
with enough glue, everyone will be happy
This text is hampered by your attempts to understand it.
You have been replaced by a million monkeys. Get used to it.
How to extract the fishbone wedged in the throat of Poetry?
There's a flower on the tip of your tongue.
Your slogan is an instant solution to all my problems. Carry on.
that's because the halo of indispensable knowledge is tarnished
Your vibrator poetics ran out of batteries.
the populace is at odds and the wind is blowing hard
raucous indifference should not be confused with enthusiasm
the angels of hypocrisy are dancing on the head of a pin
go ahead and try to make art out of that
Apologies to the Author.
the new poetry is just around the corner
If only memes would disappear as quickly as they appeared.
How was I supposed to know what NSFW meant?
interrogating the interrogator liberates the assumptions framing the interrogation
poetry is just a poetry
the source of all knowledge isn't
Poetry has been blackmailing me for years and I can't take it anymore!
writers write & poets poet
Now that poetry is dead we can all get back to work.
the poem is jockeying to be experienced amid an ice storm of assumptions
the earth has become a butterfly with no wings
a not so exquisite corpus
Your extended metaphor is going to require prosthetics.
the society of poetry is one peep show after another
all the world is staged
after much thought and experimentation I've discovered that our Universe is held in place by grease
Google has a penis?
If a million monkeys can write shakespeare, then goddammit, so can a million chickens or a million butterflies.
I just took 31 different things out of my pants pockets.
Every time I see the word emoji I think ebola.
as above, so above
Why grapple with the truth when you can grovel in perfect illusions?
It's a miracle I can get out of bed. Now make me a saint.
I have exhausted all the pithy quotes on the internets.
the Kraken is never wrong
What's the square root of wtf?
the scheme of things stings themes
if you walked by a book on the shelf and it blinked at you. wouldn't you want to buy it?
monkeys would do that for half the price
rehearsing for the imagined moments that might never come
If you're not growing some of your own food you've failed as a poet.
books with shoes that walk until they find some new to read them
ambiguity is sexy
A house is what we wear when it rains.
I have yet to see a dotted line to sign on.
Despite my best intentions I did not dream about ducks last night. 

My days of being a supermodel are behind me.
It really sucks that the world's oldest man keeps dying.
The internet is a vegetable.
Which statistic are you?
Is it too late to renounce poetry?
The books on my bookshelves just told me who I am.
shut it all down and issue a refund
There are people on the internet?
democracy is the greatest conspiracy theory
Radicchio is my new girl friend.
This quote is off limits for the average reader.
a poem is a poem is a poem is not
yesterday's poem is obsolete
blame it on vowels
I thought you said conceptual pottery.
Who said he said she said?
only the extra-terrestrials can save us now
poison money everywhere I look, ponder that monkey brain
Remember when remembering remembered remembering?
an ampersand for every occasion
My middle name is Chocolate
Unpublish derivative literature
If you can't have fun with language who can you have fun with?
stop me if you've heard this all before
all poetry is free for the taking
the word for sixth dimensional empathic scrutiny being out of phase with fourth dimensional changeling acrobatics
poets ranked by penmanship
I'm end rhyme on time
It's high time to reinvent Martian poetry.
manifest mutiny
I'd like to buy a vowel.


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