My Novel Hot Sadness

 

A stubborn roar is a sad error

- Corso

Health is just absence of footprints on the path

belly full and eyes open -- say hello to my novel, Hot Sadness

all spurious and sultry and bared for absolution.

In the superhero sense beyond some groans,

we make manifest a thing of truth, beauty, and insight

into the rubble of my false notions of permanence where there's

a matched pair of damasked springback recliners

thinking about either the word liminal or terminal

how they both involve lines, in the sand perhaps or

spark, conjure reflect the kind of friend you'd suspect you want to be around.

A cul-de-sac is a road that leads to nowhere. 

Who knows where Nowhere goes.

The low clouds break here and there like girls named Hyacynth, or the Montreal Expos

aw hell, my novel, Hot Sadness, all snowballs and red peppers

still waiting for time to unravel your rebukes.

"Everything falls apart," he said.

"Yes but we try to hold things together as long as we can."

"All in vain," he added, as a plane farted across the darkening sky.

She started to cry.  I'm sorry, I add, too late, and not enough.

Zest for Sense, Incense for the Rest

you can change your life & diet, wife & quiet  flame

I heard about a guy who cleft his life from being and became.

thrust out the dreams of Suckling sleep ye still as naked babes

should auld acquaintence be kersplatt mash ctrl+s to save

the days were colored sharply when the corner cricket chirped

oh ye of little landing strip, a pubic hair excerpt,

at night our feral hearts coerce and coarse with dark blood's song

I heard about the boundlessness, I heard that I heard wrong

who names the mute perfection whence they are in its midst?

I heard you were the frozen dew on brown addled grass tips

or tending to your horses, armchairs, onanastic dawns

I intend to watch the moon and hurdle soft headlong

into the low oblivionic funeral of time

as quotidian embrace holds sway. Can yours be same as mine?

we did a toast to fixedness and smashed the glasses thus

why clink together softly when the sidewalk poplars shush

turn absence into presences, see what cannot be seen

smile, be gentle, do not lie and regress into the sheen

of hot upholstered mysteries , the trash bill by the door, 

Austere façades, in yellow best to ward off gloom & more

I heard about a guy back east, the trees all lost their leaves

in voicemails drenched by honkytonk and radiologies

the sulphor of the darkness sparkling comes, a little bit, 

into the novitiate morning honey, so how about it

I heard if we squeeze tightly through the void of the absurd

paper gospels caked with smoke and bleached black by the world

can change everything back, and us, with an ironic eye

I heard it'd take a monthly fee, perhaps it's worth a try.

and let in tiny slices of a pure blue heaven.
The day is like us, she thinks; it hasn't decidedwhat to become. The traffic light at Linwoodgoes from red to green and the trucks start up

-Philip Levine

Today was the day, I was already behind
-Gord Downie

Yappy Hew Rear, near deaders.
This concludes the 26 blog cycle we started back in 2022. YAY!

Which were your favorites?  

What should come next?

Would appreciate your thoughts and comments as we commence together unto the new new new new
-D'Masked Man