Carlos Lara
NEON REMAINS
they could be roasting there could be ruins of motive theatrically tossed into frame
it is nice in the vista of the cold air refrigerator a slice of the kind the fourth kind
making me and Jamaica room again making air control dear trick making samples sit in the business
hobbling there where governors will go where willpower lulls in the conservative buttons
in the hall of bravery in the Fidel Castro literal sky
a wall of mountains doing on the planet a drafting theme these arms like a Cajun bird
autumn struggling to heal the carnival of now and stopping to glitter up the little eternities
the negative whittle and vellum the giddy parallax of alcoholic lightness
first here is me in the fur then the reign host the bright saddle mollifying the past
she looks back into mazes of day and fast and supplies move into a climate unknown to tar
I am a snow defined by chlorella by dense animal blood showing stones to the shore
NEON REMAINS
circular paging fires sacrificed denim stars and a shoeful of bramble or buzz
I was about to accost you for the silent lottery the point being naked
the stakes of the sand of course of course the wheel comes first the interest comes second
you cannot fight me I am the month I am the real lights of war growing big conically
and I am saturated with ice lunches to be fair I am living in an eagle permanently
time management a crown of thorns a special indictment dinner party
disgraceful and poor sheared off at the tendons the ornamental tears the riot suck
the sky has a lotta water the fly is about it the meager Persian emasculated dunes
luxury alone excites the parts the 100 parts of the lark’s music or pardoner’s wand
sometimes I distract myself from all the knives of the Hudson River and life
NEON REMAINS
I took the crime upon myself in arks on water in tuxedo tepid wafer
floating cunt of love love the heart of love the paper of my heart
a mauve insistence and Latin payload there are video things and right here
deceased and dressed for love brought back to life by overheard blue palaces
to work on things in Maryland to have a cigarette or rectify some sort of odd bulimia
the bear of the vacuum stares at what it is and what it is not trying on my Byronic hat
billowing bold half I debate my fathers over air air in a tin cup and whistling charnel
leaving you in various ways in surrounding shoes parentheses and parallels sweeten time back
Canadian standard thesis of matter my hands change hands in the real world of water tables
there was once a guy there was once an extraction and in the business oracles shit and figure
also water weaving cerebral pilots also foibles also folios wherein we study thin returns
NEON REMAINS
as satisfying as this dust work is you never had to choose among the islets
I am you European blood-European of my blood my eyes facing away and you
melancholic horehound symmetry insisting on peaceful peace by querulous assumption
don’t tell about the after-slaughter the perfected circular currency of prisons
sustaining leads of unenjoyment lulls the barometers imploding with doves
the platitudes the pandemonium and nothing remains whole or original with seas
I am perfected assemblage the dire daughter of silicon and adventure research
I see power I see the day 100% inside of a milk scene my grandmother tongue leaf
I was once waste unappealing micro synchronicity I had been a classical face
my song now rips your rain it lives in your pencil fronds crazier than a red pony
being that unoccasional arms race that glorified spark sometimes stopping intermittently
NEON REMAINS
I find a new path by which to tease a standard simply havoc in the ballerina
casual growth of blonde air whatever dies is between the usual performance or velvet bust
July the 6th the Aztec flowers in deposition and in several powers talking to myself again
red and more red in my colorless coma in my epitaph of a driver of Michelles
beneath a grey ceiling my body is filed away cold Asiatic and un-new with failure
a twitching comes closer the shears of my shadow awaiting other paths not to realize bathing
there has been so much ash in that world to release an apex of situation to hesitate each day
hermeticism only disguises real love so much about it I have to say I am nothing
no plush agonizer of small bells no reflective limb or lingo disturbing the faith
to certain pedigrees I am annulled or bland for my courteous run arounds
other times I’ve given you metal and what have you done to bring forth the flower of the invisible
NEON REMAINS
soft mammalian waterpark stanzas I go my own way now stunning palomax
khalif of the burning subhelix in memory it’s like a lavender gas mask people will have to love it
a form of mockingly tense ideals that row upon row upon themselves
at this humble desk of dusk of illuminations I illuminate the nameless rings of a barbarous belltower
but you see daylight moving into my eyes daylight as lie and misdiagnosed pentacle or drizzle
fratricide in soundless sighs with disc and pellet our style is an older thing of simple slowdreams
love from the round flame against yourself to purify the bedsong the blameworthy
two beings go to live among the gifted flow of violence and now the voices pulling
when can our balances of unreturnable sky scars levitate with the pulp ellipses
onward the throning estrus of famed purples do my magentas upheave a pilot light
your diet is now the long lung stochastic I hate my own thirst a complicated useless spiral of dust
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