Notes on Corn Has Ears And Can Float by Reckon

I am looking for everyone discovering her hands and camera trying to overstand the in between  

that said they inhabit you - fossils - because you exist and blood floods the banks called boa

(and might like to swallow your entire body of land and soda)

You must feel, after all, this affordable new scene - best modern turn-on better than cash -

it's not what you might think, kitten - it's not the usual stuff and listen: it happens and you should too...everywhere the works promise fuel for the flame in the heart car nation

salvation, spiral tape loops every here where her radiates somehow once ignored, branching mingled tongue and groove to sawtooth, and groove to sawtooth to perfect circle

always looking for clues in tock shows, in the last lines of handwritten notes.

Here her pretty toenails feel more free and all the trees are dancing (!)

So don't stop sampling music cause words show off music with ease,

Embrace the american turntable on the jazz rise happy teeth

Notes on Dictionary Debris by Reckon

Buy media

perhaps yr right perhaps they won't remember

Buy sell no one's listening

syllables gestures groove lines littering

dictionary debris along all the paths doorways detours

daring clues devouring keys to so many houses  

ways in ways out (balances)

a cozy arrangement in the age of words, phrases

shifts in public taste and tolerance for overexposed faces

camouflaged imposter gods

sanities and crazies

beetlestilskin rumple juice is legion

and how art the duck and babies?

Notes on Since the Fakes in Audio Postcard by Reckon

Upon washing alfalfa's brain call the bored museum

Each silhouette in the Beads of Sweat installation you should carefully count

Onward, sense the negative space amongst the ritual objects  

Sense the space the positive parts the exorbitant costs

Truckloads of art heading to castle gates

Sense the fakes the posing potion's high

In audio postcard: camera is America without the eye

 -- dr o'dear

Notes on Superobeyonce by Reckon

oh no, b

another wannabe obi wan kenobe, kemosabe

ya heard right

left eye blind right eyed grape

hit the gas at the hot green light

ageless obscene obeyonce  

hot.to.trot. where the roads cross in the 

wilderness son, easy bodied beast vipers;

all I can smell is play money

half smoked cigarettes  

super obeyonce  

a must have add-on app, limited hangout players 

marketing brand new bottled fragrances, old favorites, new roots

top ten blondes

in leftover collage: looted paradise,

wolves in sheep satires

new beats, nude leaks exhausted disguises

Notes on Flo Going With by Reckon

This tastes really good, no matter the weather, resistance or flow going with

mysterious mastermind's metaphors practiced in space everywhere,

in scents wafting through places where poetry plays dirty and like I done said:

tastes good, especially compared to processed pop star foods,

iambic pentagram masters ping pong pulsing dynastic broods

bearing very good news all the while being smooth.

it's art everlasting inclined outside time

you can count on it and it's awfully funny and well written

if you've upgraded your eyesight and can listen

yule be rolling in the aisles, positively smitten,

gorgeous spread eagle grinning ear to ear posing for pinhole nudes with money making

kittens

 

(Notes on) Gold Boon and Her Unstoppable Dope by Reckon

 

Sugar in a space book makes a dazzling doorway,

Extra salt sequenced RNA in the the red hot DNA extra butter

makes a dazzling doorway to gold boon and her unstoppable dope parade

 

Sugar in a space book purring so tender tough, so sonic coming on with 

drug words rug burning in the anytime moonlight day broad lit 

sculpting diamonds in the shade pecan and pine parade at the fair Midway

 

There go all the rides and prizes...

that is to say, how poem cut a hole in time where we merge hand crafted,

veiled in underlined overarching over time oscillations  

body art buzzing magnets in the bag  

 

was the word  

pretty tough stuff

how poetry works a diamond

pretty touchy stuff

outta sight silent even better multi D sex telepathy 

handwritten verses born in a Deep South dream state  

or maybe wide awake

 

are you have you ever been? 

hear that earbell lobe  

overwritten elemental controls

hear that heavy metal song racing once more 

from the beginning right after yr eyes unfroze  

 

We awoke in Electra or Paris myth making legends

red hot and in tune  

Prime time women In Los Angeles growing Los Angeles making real dazzling doorways

jonesed for

by the royals and rejects, blue chips to collars, their super transfixed eyes mouths and ears

ignoring all the superSerious poets

Who are only joking

Writing about living in Los Angeles moaning

Growing Los Angeles wings

tasting the TV muse evermore electrified in this thing

this backward masking tv movie with angels in lingerie 

 

brands baring it all makin a buncha dazzling doorways  

harmonic balanced brains and booty, a direct line

To gold boon if you can sing too,

Sell everything

at the crosswalk for gold boon and Her 

Red hot donut-shaped something-or-others, big blimp masters

Peanut galaxy pimp mastered

But no one knows this?

 

(Nobody reported) no one noses or notices the distortion (send more)

Smell the coffee and bacons, American creature

The angles of words make many doors with nifty features

And look damn sexy doing it...

Notes on Bob Dylan's Jazz Bands by Reckon

Bob Dylan's jazz band plays music that would make even the biggest somebody change into more, and a large bunch of littlests at that

Get born

blow their horns in their Broadway bodies

Dream singing in way out sunglasses down Pendulum Road where he kissed the girl in the transparent clothes

It was legendary

She was a sweetheart from someplace where they plow and grow cool girls who hate fur coats

Girls who love Lucille Zora Neale & Rimbaud, strange sweethearts in the full color flesh world, sugar bones with unabashed unabated sunburnt backs dashing this way and that,

All along the hills they sing x-rated songs, forwardly flirty hot shots in sunglasses on the hillside,

Sex symbol scenes or Nimble Sweethearts growing warmer getting going as the sun dips down on the turn

She sears in

She starts purring

She sees us bashful things unlearning & sneezes 

(squirting) 

Notes on Gin (Way More Fun) by Reckon

 

Jen inside on the inside jen

The engine is purring

Light bear or lizard thing

 

Shiny people in shades see further

In every direction

The hottest angels

 

On the catwalk closer to God's

Whatchamacallit unmentionables

Leading ultimately to secrets

 

Or at least one

And you're guaranteed the lips telling it

Will be fully insured

 

-- M-M-M-Monica in the engine room (Way more fun)

 

Notes on Apple Pi by Reckon

Who knows how

words make mail udderly feminine

The fox knows

the little chicken

the sphinx nose

the nightly noose

The trixter rabbit with the 14 karats 

Fourteen carrots

(Fortean)

to be sure

I wrote her a let her

About a cosmic Capri Sun Pentacost maze

littered with kooky computers eyes ears ladybugs

billy goat water gates

Ram for the mouse memory

and apple pi in every window

 

who knows now but the mouse putting up the flag on the male box

to alert the delivery man

about a love letter called

Adam's apple chakra (get the balance right and blend)

Or, How Words Make Mail Utterly Feminine,

stranger strangest friend


 

Automat Ons by Reckon

automatons converted  drew in dismantled

brought into the fold  made one's own

took over 

trap doored  homogenized  neutralized  absorbed

derailed  defunded  delisted

enfolded

bought and sold  stifled authentic  

auto-tuned shit to gold, I mean gold to shit

Notes on Sheep Knew Nothing by Reckon

Sheep knew nothing counting people

transfixed by fingerprints and flashing lights

retina scanners darkly daring

sheep knew nothing sleeping on their feet

dancing and driving in dreaming

it was risky to wake them

and no one wanted to fake it or halfway fk& betray it neither

Your Real Face by Reckon

This breath may get you accidentally high  so get close with the rhythms,

so close you might crawl inside  in the shape of a sun licking tongue

attached to a hundred wild fingers

extraordinary  

yr on    in the shape of your feet in my pockets  your real face  your lips  your real mouth full

of ink, your eyelash dawn

yr on    and  so close  so close