The Mezunian

Guaranteedwarm or your cash back–Summer Moon™

«Mmmm…» Hold it there, Signor Sher: I just saw you rolling round the sun-caressed grass villi like a cub fucking for the 1st time—well, OK, nothing o’ this I truly saw; but I did glimpse flashing colors through your eyes into your mind, basking in your soft cotton sweats & your puffy jacket. Think you’re […]

Quiza es junio, pero el celeste gris y el aire que es tan frío que puede verlo lo hacen un junio del otoño, ni del verano ni siquiera de la primavera. So there.

What a waste. Without a taste, stretching out for help, but found none in suns on yellow days, frowning drowning pastel clown. Nothing’s sweat in salty tears, only smeared & only itchy make up made up of those years— dark, & yet they still bewitch me. Dump you down my creaky drain, please remind me […]

Recuerdo cuando oía aquella canción en el radio. No la toca no más. … I remember when I heard that song on the radio. They don’t play it anymo’. …

I’m not ‘fraid o’ the night, where light illuminates the dark & dark illuminates the light; ‘stead I fear the day, when the flesh-faced hunters—Aughooo!—wake, marching out on the open plain, as if we don’t all know what’s @ stake ‘tween our stakes. Day like a desert saps me dry till I become drunk on […]

Lay sorrow for the sorrows I thought I harbored but didn’t, drain, now listen to that same spinning disk I’ve been frisking for days now. How ich bin itching loud. When I’m starving to leave, I say chow, I do. « Cat, get your face off my hand & sit in a marching band. Bash […]

Out o’ the bluein creamy blue–afternoon moon.

En los sueños vi una obra por Henrik Ibsen que no ha estado visto por nadie jamás. Los actores se sentaba y se hablaba para una hora (pues, a veces uno se levantaría y caminaría al fregadero y miraría afuera de la ventana), pero el reparto incluyó la parca. Después hubo otra obra sobre Pokémon, […]

Limbs sway suggestively in the wind just like shapely human hips. How your leaves scatter here & there as humanoids fling their loose hair. If roughness were treasure, I’d invest in your trunk o’er the hairiest chest; for I know your bronze wood’s renowned & e’en supplements my own. I know your wide black hole […]