Page Ten Poem by B. Sven Telander

Faded gray slate baited again,
a lurch through the touch
of what was frozen
at the curse of will be
when predictable ridiculous
book of pages torn
from other books
fashion the locks,
fasten the clasps,
descend into the
temperamental end
on grim fringe to begin
the bridging gifts lifted
from sour soil and silent soul
born to tower or toil
on pilot goal of words
on the ceiling that look
like a surge of hurt
or purge of heart escaping
the latest phase of the nowhere road;

Tremenda Horrenda snared
in drowsy montage of memories,
drifting through years on mattress
as sleep crawled like slow vermin
over a blanketing plague of remembrance,
many questions haunting unpredictable
chamber with constricting urgency,
omnipresent machines of need
embalming with illusions,
guarded by frauds framed
in necessary dopewound
trainvein lungdrug smokecave
needlefeast fangstage kneebleed
godcrave boneborn faithgrave;

divergent convergence of parallels
maternal twirl mathematics failure
where bunkbed post met head
and split the skin to the skull
and bled the blood where lies
were told yet secrets kept
jumpyears to fingerstrung neckwise
yesterdays woodriver paradise
tainted with ugly true urges
witnessed by siblings
...if then, what now,
was when, then how,
where what took root
in dark fertile curtains
borrowed timefile items,
more memory thefts forgotten,

condensed triggers bloom
to larger things,
brief tastes of altruistic bliss,
vortex torment
petty perverse universe
accretion disk hurls
a dull sluggard in tomorrow breach,
trundled under older moments
in maw of convenient categories
where perception overrules intent,
sly games take rewards
from contemplation playground
to condemnation battleground,

mistakes made in days of rage,
a little more of the anticipated
irresistible deliberate addicted;
all the eyes were jewels
withering husk shell cracked
at dusk when sudden is rush
and spent is the mind
lost fall slaughter
given to bluster
fraught with shadows
born from form long
past craft with slap
on the crack where night
hangs its hat and boring
old inquiry sings on a page
destined for dust or paved
in a landfill where dreams
go to die or dance in the past
at a cougar attack of the spirit,
a gasoline soaked soul burning alive,
a murder meme hissing black tasks,
a petty plodding through mundane
stunting in muddled blundering
through tiny and tinnier worlds,
vampiric mentalists displaying paltry themes,
mayhem saints flanked by carnage angels,
bathing napalm beauties running
for a finish line of wishes,
wonder anywhere but right here,
onyx pyronics fanged worms
junction plundered ad nauseum
in the stadium of tedium
assorted ballparks of the lost
to joyless trundle through the myriad
games on carnival planet,
caught in the close distance
of the sudden ordinary drop
in deliciousness on carnivore world,
kindled blessed kindness touring asylums,
moonspiders are spinning webs for earth
collecting stray ghosts of the globe,
celestial festival-
harbinger of butchery
in corruption eruption,
negation of elation
fickle wisdom feeble trickle
optic atrocities harmony chaotics
dissonant explosions psychotic implosives,
mixed up face men with earballs
and eyedrums, mostrils and nouth,

tempted giggling weakling,
thinking stinky winks of fate
and black tasks,
planned forgotten gesture
hazy waiting lateness gathering
this glorious sediment
in an asking clasp,
sanctioned answers
blessing every question
wanting more and gaining less
than prayers on dusty alter
calling to the walls with
faltering vanity and breathless desperation,
when they were once there
it was where they wanted to be,
caged dragons, thunderbirds in chains,
phantasmagorical beasts beaten back
down from wondrous wild
via fallen dominion in allegorical continuum,
part of the not quite club,
primal time stasis maker,
time the wound that only death can heal,
ergodic motion machines for
the unlimitless conception
of the whisper children,
little Miss Black Paw
in the liquid night.