Jakob von Hoddis, Weltende (1911) transmuted twice by Retorico Unentesi 02.05.2017
Welt-blend
Dim burgers in flight varoom spitting at the top of their hats,
In alien soft loot then halt, eyes wire guest cereal,
Dashboard decks under the stairs stare at the hound in zen and grin entwined,
Under the dendrite kitchen cusp -- lies in the pan -- stigmata of dying fruit.
The storm is daily dying, wild merely hopping
On the land, a sticky dharma beercan at the zoo.
Dice miss the stem, miss the chicken-stem, inhabit neither eyes nor school-coffin.
The eyes are slim and banished, fallen on their own and broken.
Jakob von Hoddis, Weltende (1911)
transmuted by Retorico Unentesi
02.05.2017
Welt intends
From the burglar's flighty dome the corpse spits zen and thunders hut,
The alien laughing halts: unless we guess the cringe,
What desert stirring zen absconds with thunder entwined again?
Unless the android curse intends -- lies established as mantra -- at the siege of the fluttering fruit.
The storm is data and dada, it dies in the wild merely hoofing
At land, from slick damnations through drunken veer
They die in the mist with mist on their chins, and their habits snooze in the ferns.
We are abandoned to Eisenhower nights, fallen on dents and broken.
Jakob von Hoddis, Weltende (1911)
transmuted by Retorico Unentesi
02.05.2017
Dim burgers in flight varoom spitting at the top of their hats,
In alien soft loot then halt, eyes wire guest cereal,
Dashboard decks under the stairs stare at the hound in zen and grin entwined,
Under the dendrite kitchen cusp -- lies in the pan -- stigmata of dying fruit.
The storm is daily dying, wild merely hopping
On the land, a sticky dharma beercan at the zoo.
Dice miss the stem, miss the chicken-stem, inhabit neither eyes nor school-coffin.
The eyes are slim and banished, fallen on their own and broken.
Jakob von Hoddis, Weltende (1911)
transmuted by Retorico Unentesi
02.05.2017
Welt intends
From the burglar's flighty dome the corpse spits zen and thunders hut,
The alien laughing halts: unless we guess the cringe,
What desert stirring zen absconds with thunder entwined again?
Unless the android curse intends -- lies established as mantra -- at the siege of the fluttering fruit.
The storm is data and dada, it dies in the wild merely hoofing
At land, from slick damnations through drunken veer
They die in the mist with mist on their chins, and their habits snooze in the ferns.
We are abandoned to Eisenhower nights, fallen on dents and broken.
Jakob von Hoddis, Weltende (1911)
transmuted by Retorico Unentesi
02.05.2017