Little Visitors
Vonich visions occasionally book rooms in my head They often gift my lost & found with radiant surprises leaving transmissions—leaving transcripts—leaving oddities
Leaving Aphorisms faded paintings Words kipple Leaving Interplanetary diagrams Forgotten emotional spectrums Ambient Dream letters
No longer do I write poetry
I merely imprint cosmic penumbras
Happy Valentine Baraka
Violets aren’t blue Violates are bullshit, Unless they have thorns Unless they are ultraviolet
We need love poems that slit throats in deep sleep Love poems that produce diaphanous heart tumors Love poems that fold amygdalae into origami cranes Love poems that Heal! That Erupt! That Riot! Love poems that uproot moral integrity Love poems that read theory, then burn it
Love that is calm Love that is room temperature Love that is commandable Is not love It is infomercial fondness It is bullshit brand loyalty It is not real
This is not us my dear We are more Our love is a picturesque city Besieged by delightful locust
Word Association As A Form Of Repentance
Comatosed Haros Smoked jazz notes Jerkied lungs howl
Crooning nights Brooding Forgiveness
Nimbostratus scars Cloud childhood memories
Lamplight seduction Isolated friends
Citywide compulsory silence Hopper runs out of paint
Graveyard friendships Carpet burnt collateral
Rain as vice Amniotic embalming fluid Drown me lord You unpagan coward!
Untuned death Hourglass unhonesty Static in D minor
Dogme 95
Purity is a gimmick No aspect ratio can capture Extra-diegetic thoughts Alien aberrations No camera can catch Outside logic Omniscient compulsions Clairvoyant ripples Gravitational waves No piracy warning can prevent Bootleg dialectics Digital graffiti
The universe is not yours to own Nor is it yours to define To claim reality is heliocentric hubris
the sky has been replaced with a very large comforter
Sky wide liquid white Inside a false earth canvas— The creator’s mind Slinging thoughts across the sky—words Outside mind, into psychical realms I'm So Sure— this is what Pollock saw The interconnectedness of objectless things Shapes—thoughts
Hopper painted my window With translucent darkness He painted a
[Celestial zoo I am the hamster I am the fish I am the lonely pet]
hypnagogic truth telling Blades edge conceptualization Waving pine appendages Fading city scapes Weaving roots
Can bloodied feathers fly? If so I must paint this canvas red If so I must return to the creator’s side I must burrow in clouds Rest in elysian nothingness [Kilometers above depressive abysses]
To cover the creator’s canvas With words with love with ecstasy This is pagan holiness This is artistic surrenderment This is secret attic soothsaying— Ceremonial solitude
Austin Vertesch is a student at Indiana University. He writes clandestine garbage. He can be found at @deadfakecult on Instagram and @Austin_Vert on twitter