Moon Braille on The Broken Museum Roadside Piece Hands of crippled starfish and space wheat, hands of spinstressed starfish The lego windmill spins in morphia stars gold occult gears, purple noir. The somnolent sweatsocks, time dilation and alloy eyes green leper moons. This misshapen Exhibit road sign with crooked arms, bark arms wittled by the spun fluxes cinder eyes of willow moons.... gold occult gears, purple halo of colloidal cell slime in the bending scimitar sickle moons for miles-- notes of Creeping Muzak, (organ grinder's b-flat) Crippled Starfish, hands of wet wheat space meat (three--2--in DS) the star spun in gold straw, the gold foil crochet darned by the silk divan's royal hypnotist and dilatory tar fudge. Hands of crippled starfish, hands of space wheat.
John Thomas Allen is a 38 year old poet who loves metered and unmetered, experimental and “traditional” poetry. He would like to attend a psychosocial club in which William Hope Hodgson and H.P. Lovecraft were read to the Velvet Underground’s first album while artist Banks Violette constructed one of his somethings.