I recently mentioned that I'm going to nominate Michael Szewczyk's poem "Nets the Si'ze of Souls" for a Rhysling Award. I contacted Mr. Szewczyk and got his permission to reprint the poem here for everyone to see. See my previous entry for comments on it.
Nets the Si'ze of Souls
by Michael Szewczyk
there is a music in the roosts, from deadly war
teams of the wildlife colony tubes. Shy is the
Wildlife of conflicting del fuegos
and the orthadox Soul Nets of recent mystery.
in a worship Nations existed in dinosaur
cries of hades. Of the book of Lamps,
i march the del fuego in search of dolphins
and Mighty departures. To hours
and ears of the living in the November
well of books whining friendly with the
days of the ghosts of the sea ledges of
the '70s. a message of Azimuth and try
Not to Make Company while swimming.
Giant, how a Monster in May Stops in April
Easter days. Eighty-Eight Monsters 9 bees
and Over and Over Easter of Michael
Gold of the Sands of tierra del fuego.
* we were carrying the trusting, a dead court,
down a millenium to an abandonnned torpedo
in the sands of australia, coloring and shifted,
as if fooling the ghosts of the tierra.
orthadox 88, stuff changes today. We Send
New Deal Reptiles down Private telegrams of
a Northern Disco. Am imported today
they will return the predecessors golden books
to the wild & Eastern in 1829. We were carrying
the souls of tierra del fuego. A dead Millenium
of Sand in Australia and April as if for
Colouring and Shifting. 88 of the ghosts had
trusting ego'sss. The torpedo dead court feels
abandonnned lifted of orthadox ties. New Deal
Representatives of Northern Disco, A Cult,
Changes today. Today is April, i walk down
a private telegram of golden books
imported by a theory of our predecessors.
Goliath gets up on Latin on boil and
Must feed, Must feed but surrenders alot
to orthadox telegrams from the Swans.
Corpses, history had a slow course of life.
and climbers of the Passive Mystery tour
were Saved for holy fucking deadly Caves.
secretaries Post Packs away everyday.
left in the Evening among the front Story
book service, lost in the hunger of a
had song. the cries were sweet long ago.
a pack of cries of hades friendship. A Sea,
A harbor, above a book about to have someday
someday. access the essence of torpedoes
for Saturday. Edgy past points wearing
down 150 years of adjacent lands.
the 979 predecessor reproducing disaster
and its friday, Young & Public diaries
day. My dinosaur, look at the post of
monsters & Lore. the cries were sweet
in hunger of a hades friendship. A Sea
ago. pack a book about to have
a harbor above essence and torpedoes
to someday someday. Past Points
Wearing down to Saturday. ticking upon
them. try not to make goliath jump up.
Giant, how a monster must feel,
the slow course of life ticking upon them.
copyright 2004 THETEXTBEAK