reckon

The Pulchritudinous Review, Issue Three by Reckon

ThePR3(Original)

The PR:  Issue Three is an experimental literary magazine of poetry, art, collage, photography, and design.

This issue features: Alice Notley, Amiri Baraka, Elizabeth Robinson,

Jack Collom, Hillary Keel, Chris Weige,

Damian Rogers, Renee Zepeda, Brandi Strickland,

Lina Scheynius, and many new emerging writers...

ThePR3(Original)

You can get out of any situation with levitation by Reckon

Sometimes when I say I would like that a lot You don't have to ask me

You can just do because

Light speed is the middleman and the mirrors huge.

The worst play (or maybe the best ever written) is losing its tune, its sheet musik & shoes & there is no greater threat to the theater than a ballistic missile or big burlesque boot.

On blank pages basque mosquito bites blue in fluorescent ink for black-light (spot the loot): epicenter in the throes of saga-city waxing antistatic in ion vents and pot-bellied ice age tents floating on salty spinning roofs; inhale a clue cheesecloth commando; go south with; go south go absinthe

Mend a dragonfly, serpent doctor and wormwood nude in yr limelight knapsack - okay, okay: approved get with it- a cinch the sappy acid for the alkaline, pedal to the metal vamoose! And take the dynamiter, too! Be crazy about be nuts about be daffy; be mad for, go for it, be gone on (be far gone on), be sunset be-dawn be-groove;

Got it bad be that way - doll it up, spruce it up do; another hot bath on the loose with rubber duck-duck-goose in cahoots:

Crop, coop, coup and crew cut the wings of many species, the wings of many flies in photographs and feces, in milky way goo landing in your eyes; supermarket tabloid mug shots and breakdowns three-quarters through, a formerly dyslexic Thomas Mapother Cruise ~ see what the heart is, pinhole stooge, from Venus to Iraq and Timbuktu on hop-scotch, drugs and booze.

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Aerial Hit Here, Supersaturated by Reckon

Science needles go haywire when the magnetic field perks up near the poles; lava cooling into rock with parallel lines fanning out; they row up in yr direction. The sun could use an atmospheric neighbor, a portioned curve

planning skylines that will soar, that will stretch

up to the corner front window torch-light paint-night and building buildings and buildings more;

Streetlights streetlight bringing to life houses and other beautiful things, how swords can do it to skin, do it even better; do it out in.

It is nice with lampposts and the occasional go-getter.

Of course it is appealing where it is colored, affording a feeling of radio luck in the listener, especially where it is a body and body throb and slide headlong on the road whereabouts Dawn was reportedly rising to meet her friend December and everyone tearful in transit (these situations benefit all).

Dawn, along with her cousin Lila, danced away with Andrea the shaved head girl, again out of her clothes being chased by boys.

I could smell the sum of Evie Mia and the crazy brew, Nette, who loved a quick shower. She wore high chiseled cheeks and whispered to all of us the most provocative things. She tried each ear on for amusement. She told me the things I should say in the shower with her. Everyone else soon caught on too.

The shadow could not be measured; I knew it, but didn't care. Every tree rests and then becomes really nervous-high. The truth was out! This was all concerning the ins and outs of extramural demonomania and groundhog holes overtaken by humans.

Lila wept and Evie and Nette laughed but no one tried to notice or sing along it just happened; people working with their dreams and finally things got wild.

"I soon might satisfy the sad and topless...those actresses and models are warm and seek intimate questions."

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

In the altogether nude by Reckon

I found some altered natives through most of Europe and there in America always with so much to do;

guidelines, caveats, multiple definitions.

I found some no longer true and this gave me the blues.

I found much of this input into my remembrance in Asia,

and much of it in Emmy tombs.

I found a few, too, along the way who look a lot like You,

Anuvutu,

Smoking your Pall Malls in the manse and pallace,

jogging apace eating grapes and salad marbling steaks,

dial-spell rotary dial-spell touch-tone flirtatious and worldly:

Cordless remote control.

Chris Weige | TX | Share a key intuit 

Blister Beetle and the Caterpillar's Kimono by Reckon

In case of an arrangement of heaven and states, a thousand years are up and bravo, ultrarevolutionaries,

beekeeper, barkeep, orizabus subaziro!

Zenzizenzizenzic has more Z's than any other;

Eighth power of a number and regarding those eight is the first;

So which is the last?

(FORTY is the only number which has its letters in alphabetical order. FIRST also shares this property; ONE is the only number with its letters in reverse alphabetical order. ONE THOUSAND contains the letter A, but none of the words from one to nine hundred ninety-nine has an A.)

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit

You Betcha Thrills by Reckon

My right hand is in your hair fertilizing what there is to remember what kind of plant what polished stone

Edun;

the words drawn dismantle everything

outstripping the honeycomb autos running alongside now

and here told holding glorious invitations

to your being born being broke they tried to rewrite it

but I knew they lied, hon.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit

Chewing Hair by Reckon

Whoa man dear me in back of garden kissing feet and Tempting curve of shoulder, twirling locks round ear maps of this Priceless state and sugary face, photographing fingerprints away for frames and time travel, mood fires and dimpled thighs;

Whoa man in awe drawing hands toward break of breastbone, small of back, obscene freckled saviors, astounding calves taut in tip-toe

In focus - ants nibbling in slight rows go unnoticed.

Whoa man dear me bent knee kissing origin of heartbeat human, longing for rendition statue or amber, no end of breath near or faces fading away in arms of clouded acquaintance, but the ever-moment aroma and stir of soul, tulips shifting for rise of sun and track of bite

Chewing hair above forehead perspiring, marvelous belly perspiring, gold of innocent backs and deserted dirt road over guard of cedar and tin fence perspiring.

Whoa man dear me erased leaning back inhaling earth sheets in expanding chest, language gone underground seventh heaven bliss, no last words only lips to tease the sky in its chlorine dream breathing poetry off salty skin.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit 

In the hills and in the projects people hum a million tunes by Reckon

Two relics vanished in a television series: A kid and a radio forty winks; little knew the pie.

Critics stood out in the rain like whiskey in a rotting sink,

Reeking: dead ringers for the little guy.

Staring out over the not-seen desert where the often scorned were laid out scorching, the Giant demanded a many-minded attitude, and signed off with nice emissions smelling like herb.

There were good reasons not to collapse.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit 

My friend Love played here once and freaked everyone out... by Reckon

Concede, child; The great guiding principle has done nothing wrong.

This case has been under a rock since he

Said-said his skull was cool.

You know what, Composer?

He was a pretty good dancer.

He started something on the outskirts

Along an Appalachian trail with torches.

"People underestimate the fans," he said once a million times.

He had a place in Vegas at the Hotel Farah where they had a jukebox that played everything, from Patty LaBelle to The Accelerated Mass. Kimono, top-blown volcano, vacant neon rooftops, effortless wise and literate eyes ~ sweeping rare ones ~

Devoted and these days warm.

There he stored dozens of boxes swelling with letters, their echoes scattered in the desert pleading for meteor showers, and all their aching bones, their blood-thirst.

While he was away, all they could do was show stand-ins and mediocre looking doppelgangers.

“Some rock tunes expose lies, other tell you what to do or think, or what everyone’s been doing, or what you already knew but forgot.”

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Egyptian Muse and Amber by Reckon

Suti rips a lungful of air, ya see, discreetly spiritus (many to breathe),

And Amber risks a visit - many many - perchance to live.

I marvel, for there she is coming down the olive hill in her elegant walking way, small loft New York City shedding wallpaper and hot summer day. I envisioned her, and she called.

Even skyscrapers we stand between dip waltz undress exalt, the hang-ups stand apart and dissolve, bare shoulder in tender sonic boom more and evermore the mystery, but this time I can taste it.

We busied ourselves swallowing storms and building suspension bridges, drunk on a future in which one faithful air may forget geography within bedlam where ideas take flight on a mission between her legs.

So real her lap my head is in

A field of flowers;

I spent hours fixing on her saintly skin.

So real you feel them, too: a million tears for New York City.

The Last Great Dilemma of Closer, perhaps, or in this space apocalyptic rain-shower: the stone’s throw is in exactly one hour.

4.23.98. | Chris Weige | TX.

fingerprints by Reckon

fingerprint number one Feel and taste the words

You are reading this, Lover

So don’t be surprised…

fingerprint number three

Continue to kiss

Drive yr body with yr mind

She may have visions

fingerprint number five

This will fascinate

Shoulders sigh with contentment

Grasp her upper legs

fingerprint number seven

Her parted thighs and

Her sudden entire tautness

Contact cause a glow

fingerprint number nine

Wash her back and feet

Use a soft, fluffy towel

Wash her stomach flesh

fingerprint number eleven

Simmer soft mound move

Ravage this body weight press

Rebuild broken bed.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit 

A Longing for the Memory of Eyes by Reckon

Horse teeth, gold teeth, bless me body shot, gangway fleshpot. Universe, Universe, show me we are

Your priceless laugh-talk,

Your hair as I write this in Texas between two antique typewriters.

We have been with you and loved you all the way to Rome! We are louder now in the United States where She was Made. In the same Made vision, very softly now: Om.

She seed it; she said it was great. She transported to the bowels of the earth communication in opiate jive. She seed the cities every maze. She seed the memory of eyes:

Nama Mai Won, Nama Mai.

Nama Mai Won, Nama Mai.

Nama Mai Won, Nama Mai.

Chris Weige | Texas | Share a key intuit 

the gentle man and further confusion by Reckon

The talk with him again street, come see; make yr way past the brownstones,

embark on a bus, in a car in a truck, or walk

The road to his children are her at the top of a hill behind the house,

horizon, open field mixed with honey;

he'll look at you and for a giant is a gentleman

Standing on Main Street, leaning on a diner counter,

sweeping the driveway with a big broom, stripping cotton

or watering the garden when he could have been swimming.

Chris Weige | Texas | Share a key intuit 

Wild West Derangement by Reckon

The beds are made the sun is a go; Stick it in yr sheets the cleared and capable goat.

Likewise, give it good to the roach on The Lonely Show.

Make gorgeous the Wild West Derangement.

Manipulate with your hands and scissors the image-dream.

Imagine the roof of your mouth the root of the punk rose.

This is the river on its knees just yesterday calling home:

“Wash away ink, Rain. Wash away ink.

People got eternity.

People gotta chew the blues and curve and corner karma;

Truly they came to be dancers

but lost the beat."

Doo-wop

do it don’t mind;

Doo-wop the secluded night when they found It;

Doo-wop yr sore back on beach blanket, Satellite;

Tell your friends this is the shakedown shoot-em-up amok;

Tell all the trends, any digital twins, any skinny make-up, any fear or kid, shadow or pet, any fancy clone or robot waiter, any strange stump or popular marriage, any forgotten playground or gravel pit or mud playground, any tomb or bow, peer or flat-eye, tear or crack, Orion, any angelic rogues or flat b sounds, any forgotten playground, any forgotten playground, the leaves on the

Portico.

The beds are made the sun is a go;

Stick it in yr sheets the easy body sound and beast;

Smoke the space joke and viper.

[The skin has three layers of tissue and electrelastic fiber.]

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Time and Your Frantic Feet by Reckon

Hello, This is Wires, and we will cross again.

Did you and Mojo break the ice?

If I haven’t already told you, you look super, strange.

Super if you look strange: extraordinary.

Are you wearing what you said you would wear?

Everything should be the color of your skin.

It has those remarkable patterns:

Forget the deluge of lace this moment...

I see your ideas and things get REAL again,

And I do remember the words to eat.

They probably get a great view

Of the Sunrise and Set from the aperture, swimming through me.

I do recall taking furious notes negotiating a turning row

With a musical truckload of girls, overjoyed with the well of flesh.

Encore: Kissing and hollering over limber lip loops aching,

And they might have all been you.

I had a chat with your mirror once. In becoming your face it learned to think and speak. It lifted your chin and gave your face a cool light. It made one and then another precious bare leg.

I stared at your big toe, your strut, your depressions, the one-liners; your sultry something else by no means forgotten.

I say this without regret. You come on with this beautiful bandage and heart giving in, confided. You are here and every head Eros:

Would by the word thunderous lovemaking.

Would by the tongue the display of everything.

At hand then, would you want to run?

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit 

Bay of Wrecks by Reckon

(Very dangerous.) Shallow with numerous coral patches,

Motu Tabu,

Motu Tuba,

Numerous islands and sandbanks,

Numerous lagoons, and – far and wide –

Coconut palms.

Practically the island entire is covered with

Shrub of varying height and density, low-lying shrub-land

in the company of abundant trees adjacent to coast.

At the drum-site: flying fish and fire.

Chris Weige | Somewhere on Earth | Share a key intuit 

Kissed my ear the hormone part you really wanna want by Reckon

A casual place A casual place that isn't crowded and loud

A casual place with silverware sounds in the background;

A casual place

A movie and a long walk

A casual place cunnilingus -

We should talk we should talk we should talk.

Applaud sex and death beds, applaud!

Spoon;

I gotta taste the ocean wall here,

Ride the wave into so many details and

Weightless shimmering specs.

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit 

pharmakeutikos (n.I.L.atir alias rita lin) by Reckon

or sale for sale fit and shivery spoons full of wordfood for infants because no one really lookssound bytes become books for unhappy children, or they drug them into submission what are you going to do? they are elite think tanks engineering sociopsycho culture shocks through

psychic weaponry, mass hypnosis, pharmaceuticals - electronic mantras fulfilling when taken with rv's - electromagnetic music

feeding messages such as obey the, be a good mass producer consumer citizen be, what we say goes, this is yr life

go-go-shopping-stop, don't look up-down-drop, stop-go-run-no, eat, slow, succeed in this way and in no other way go

swindledom (keep quiet)

is this document easily accessible?

is this document intended for you?

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit