Sunday, October 8, 2017

Nathan Spoon, Excerpts from Doomsday Bunker

Rise of the Eschatons, image by Daniel Y. Harris  

Excerpts from Doomsday Bunker

Labyrinth + Nozzle

This is horrible
as a leather cupcake and
as delicious too.

It is roadkill and cloud erection
thrills of whales leaping
from miniature oceans

only to fall back into
paranoid computational
theories. Thank goodness

for red vines crawling a rock face
in a hopscotch neighborhood.
This feels like a comfortable

if out-of-use silo only
D. H. L. would pinch
the nipples of. Break off

another heel with
a buttered face and a hairdo
of live eels. Bulls are

appropriated for art daily
and the tornado that
sucked up a tidy lawn

has sprayed it against the walls
of the book somebody
will check out indefinitely

tomorrow. Another child
is weaponizing bones while reading
The Anathemata.  It’s true

coffee is a necessity
for millions who have trouble
sleeping with stranglers.

As Cinematic as Fingers

The ring goes boom!
The ring is panoramic.
The ring adds color

to watery horoscopes.
Pump a series of hairy fangs
into the spirit of the ring.

The ring! The ring! It is
a byte and a conglobulation
of bytes sliding up the banister.

The ring is made of wings
and flies around the banister
in a large trunk with

an escort. Kindness
is erasing generic notions
of equality while the ring

glints in real time
as if Bavarian gentians
are typically spun

from neon code. Love
is talking in a forest of toes. Love
is reducible to quantity.

Tomorrow shocks from the future
are collaged into excesses
of Northern Light activity.

The ring slides between
animal species. From crevasses
glands drip pheromones

leaving eyelashes in various states
of distortion. A vodka cream puff
sleeps inside the moon.

W of Bones

A priss knows hard work
is the celestial root.
In the photo of No Go

along gloppy edges people
are running in terror.
People are kissing in rain

in antique photographs
where conscious choice
writhes in lavender water.

It is time to detonate
the eyes of bees covered
in dust in Wittgensteinian

pudding rare as the grass straying
the shallows of rivers.
A data scoop through

the backdoor left firebrands
scattered across elastic meadows.
The academe, the academe

is waiting for new liver petals.
In breech a stain of pain
beeps major allegiance

walks backward through
compartmentalization. Hordes
of seasick wires are warming

the black Northern air. John F.
is the rivulet he was
before his birth. Try wrecking

a poet’s name by changing a letter.
The pants proper exercise
will inspire are fantastic foil!

Astrological Proclivities

Bells from hell are clanging
through water lilies
and numerous hours

are squishy now. Gemini + Virgo
= Virgo + Gemini. The best time
for easing into happiness

is now. All live in a good world
which will achieve totality
of saturation tomorrow at noon.

It is night across most of space.
Space is big. Spacious even.
All touch space. All are comprised

mostly of ghostly space. Space
is what makes a good world.
Space also makes hours squishy.

Space is easy. It’s the good world
and all else exuding complexity.
Thank goodness for complexity!

Space is an infant being
continuously birthed into
a casket covered with hashtags.

Because of this sentient beings
each have a star sign
although inanimate objects

do not. Period. Because of this
commas are mostly extraneous
and days of the week break

out their finest occultwear.
Rusty gills are exhuming magic
spires puncturing heaven.

To a Culture Vulture

Yesterday is the preferable day
for humanity. It is the day
life slides gracefully through

its own veins. Yesterday
is a basket fashioned from silk.
What matters more however

is what will happen tomorrow.
Today is the sigil of tomorrow.
Today is the sigil of weird

analytics which must be stopped
before they can curtain
windows. All who yearn

for weird analytics will be
tasked with creating interface
for animadversive investors

in the sigil of tomorrow. Silk
+ milk = milk × silk ÷ by tomorrow.
These are not equations.

These are facts and eventually
facts will erase tomorrow.
A doctor finds pleasure

in keeping tomorrow alive today.
A doctor is a demon of sorts.
When a hand lands it snorts

in a manner Paul V. once felt
shapeshifting up his elemental
spine. A doctor breaks the unity

of earth water fire and air. All
are prepared to gesticulate among
mounds of paint powder.

The Congratulators 

Owls are perched along
the bottoms of her eyelids.
Owls clear as dreams

are guiding her to the next reddit
selling fried baloney sandwiches.
A sea soused up the sun

and clacked around in armor
colored by newish fevers. Owls ensure
it’s time for an omnivorous snorkel

and a praise. Owls with oars
for feathers are resisting
metronomic currents in bio lines.

Thank goodness for owls!
When music blows out
of nuclear devices the talons

of owls will defend what is left
of nature leaving only the unnatural
world to burn. Owls will be

headquartered at hidden locations
beneath mountains. Although the air
wants punctuation thank goodness

for drinkable water! Thank goodness
for stubbornness and folly! One day
sock phobias will evaporate. For

now it’s time to drink as H. said at C.’s
demise. Someday drinking will save
the owls. Thank goodness

for voices of owls! Thank goodness
for rocking chairs and reddits
and the bottoms of her eyelids!

—Nathan Spoon