you made my day claude pelieu sunshine revolver

Anxiety Dragon Bathtub Larva Suitcase Puppet Theatre

Advocatoes turn brown without lemond &

new sandals for club footed saviors
are cut down from their pecking wheels
with vulture chicks like mauve maggots
squirming in exploding ochre wounds
with traffic sores like mardi gras foaming:

ala-din transformable'

carnage of hydraulic brakes
the cyclist inspects his warts
                                       on the runway he'll bump into the
                                       evil mirror
& will drop dead here in Explosive Yellow Ochre
                                                                                bath of
which oddly enough is an Amebix song
that really captures nothing (loud, blurred bluk, capsule, hopital)
but some oddly defined chemical mistake


                                                                rolling over in a prison 1967 oily green flux of
full-speed 3 "SI" Sun-Clot Spider

                                                              a divine and sensual odalalisque

                                   built from bloated corpses

rouged with chili, paprika, and tumeric

and baked pink  like gargantuan bicycle-stuffed prawns                   in Explosive Yellow Ochre

which is something they mine from the skulls of Lautreamont and Rimbaud
whose gravesex Pélieu orchestrates from the grave with his calligraphic keyboard
attached to the hurtling skeleton-furred horizontal prayerwheel mouth-analogue

hinged so gently and perfectly
on sporadic                             and simulated