peyoetry

My first chapbook, "Every Exit Impossible To Imagine With Wings," is now available for 5 dollars through TrainWreck Press. You can order a copy online through the site below, but as of right now, payment can only be made via cheque or money-order. Anyway, all the info you need is right here:

TrainWreck Press


Robert Chrysler

Everything Simultaneously/Please Remind My Molecules

cellular openings. the fifteenth galaxy refuses to be silent

and then splitting us to flicker teeth,
the crystalline horizon as flesh to where it is all imagined

Oil of Concubine/Equation the Skull's Mosque


increasingly, iam an apostle, the sea's stroke of genitalia. it's
cracked now, like ghosts, its messiah a blank mind. i still admire
your electronics, how they swim so effortlessly through the boulevard
of my hair. female rhetorics the formed eye, swung softly, quickly
into lofty, cosmic tongues that window alchemy


approached lunacy, the pop of vivid socketry
here once, leftover hydra narrowed between slits and history


Iam Only An Hour/Long Semen Below


catechism jazz. we danced moths and the paraphrase, so
broken jaws wandering the library's lonely coagulate over
rain times wings, hunger, curling days. she purred her arms
to me, the way epistemology means a golden calf, trellis enough
for two


petals that dial much more than focus mode. siblings to molten
the city's mission to Mars. token abdominals, variants assembled
in twelve hours or less, Trotsky below fahrenheit's pile of
choked meat. my oxymoron extracted velour from her orgasm and
prodded earth from her theories, long-forgotten moistures
her parted constellation to sift through the swelling

Four Vialled Abstractions


the vague delivers ancient roads to tangent again

red dreadlocks are a serum to me, warm and finally

parallel to holes that light up whenever her pyramids

fractal, two for the price of one



purple harmonies return optically, a money plucked in dissonance,
lust from the trees that triangle and scrape her vulva. the jargon
is barefoot, dressed in a trace of air. adrenaline not meant to decode,
shaken manifestos directed against bones that froth between our fingers.
spirals of devotion, and i fly faster into gaping eyelashes, all images
received while hiding in time's shared source, glossed bones and nodded
contour. gestures data their arrogant signs of neon bleeding sighs and
hymns for marrying carbon's other computer in my brain


Crucified Machines Diurnal The Fabric of Geomancy

try to believe effervescence isn't a dinosaur, chides and overhang,
as visceral as the meaning of space.

iam already a new literature, a smile seeing some blondes today, oh boy.

glass shards whisper the new paradigm, ecstastic howls that menstruate
ancient violins and hue beside her on the bed.

doesn't anyone soak their allure in the platinum of nevermind anymore?

Broken by distortion, the street flew over eternal gratitude, dripped from her atomic existence, resumed guarding the flowers of Eden. Metal scorched for them, the root in futures not yet tongued by a love that kills. Desultory spirals, the nexus of a lost dialect's adrenaline shimmering in the turquoise glow shorn of its electric negation. Their meander scrawled the legend of now on the sky. Mists imagined, clustering in the quantum vice versa'd along her shins. Looming in silent circuitry spelled a vivid realm to its breaking point, grand narratives the key to sinew, towering burial chords, one answer to make mere repetition unentangle the sheer blank opening her womb area. It's their world, never seen from afar yet, beaten in all-night's gaping dual-colour pointillism, the sky's regular pistol branched to her node that can miasma everything at once's attachment to sine waves. The vapid null of her vowels, skeletons and synchronicity piled atop bleeding, grey slabs of text busily prepared to throw hallelujah's process to daylight. Egregious beneath the annihilate, broken blues massed to vacuum his dream of an odalisqued trickle into what lives in the speaker's gift, hollow as this wind's deserted courtyard after its spine follows the rest. The swallowed comradely is aquamarine with harsh mysticism, it flowers and licks liquor for adverbs, a few stiff drinks to vulva the stars, digital and younger. Blank thumbs, equally automatic to swig the terrible zone, viewed remotely lifting her skirt's emblematic. Injected combustion has plenty to say about that umbrella and breaking antidoted laws, repertoires that tan without any activation from adagio. Their light centered on what was entwined with ripe streams, fifty muscles encroached upon by answers that come before snagged, forgotten, never stirring the thunder that would trail strangely enough. Making ice to flash somewhere into flesh, knee-deep in a kiss that moves closer. Dreaming a billion oceans torn from the first day's oldest ceremony, nothing at all must be apart where she quartzed. the slit fell heavily for all time renewed as a jaw, neurology within the pews still hungry after all this time, throats abandoned by tight jets of blue-jean in an alleyway. Bells keep plasma at bay, polyphony dripped from money, psychic rows of teeth. A coin fell from his bitter chemical exchange, beiges withdrawn from miracle clothing. Danced particles along the edges of carpet laid on that which is carbon-based before finally alighting on feathers quickly eaten by his lurch. Amusement soaked into rapidly purpling lips, she managed to pause magic and life while he fingered nothing, devices that disclosed other moans. Elbows of dirty echo marred by the twitch implied in masturbation, each corrugate alive with parallel sockets, awake to feed her television. Braced for disruption, they routinely pose with the spirit of a trope, third intuitions intended to video aliens and their discoloured lungs, unfolded rays open to murmuring styles and design. Captured with oxygen's morning glory, a citrus of window to lick. Cascades known by heart deny her tissue as cognitive mercy because after all the brilliant fires lit for the sake of economics, passion has become a trigger again, a disgust for psychology and its lost husbands and gang-raped verbs. A different fountain wrapped in the outside writing to sixty-two revolutions interested in screenplays from the cosmos, solitude's meridian, empty barnacled dynamics. It's written by drips of linger, gasped union poking days into greased motions for shocked detritus when enamored rains its centrifugal cry, deadly rainbows that crevice between their skulls. Trees conversed with her when he wasn't around, told her how words could dream meanings gained and meanings lost without ever coming to the cusp of insanity. The soft fragrance of the lion, meat passed to what lies beyond liberty, a peeping curl. Variants continue to walk, a loving search in sacks of E minor, triangles, the equal little head of a mutation with wings that sing to Ra. All debts to pearls that never anyone into action, a bouquet of her ample concerto, structured layers made unexplainable by their nymphomania. Elegant sources, asteroid dandelions are not turning her stem like they used to, another reason to remedy the speed of light when it's stricken with arched slits, the thistle where pupils should be kept. An ache of pistol spent her on what is epistolary about colliding nipples, she is porcelain's air stranded on an excerpt of unruly, curious escape. Virgin arpeggios like his large evening praised, still ashen and an observer of Baroque precision. Compressed with sweet, heathenly vice and pouring its entropy wink to the interface. Prison rests in the left tendon pictured with a fiery hour that only wants to shed the metropolis stuck to its microtonal field, to understand the pink asunder ionizing velvet for a time of delusion. Carnal masks that beard then flee as the cocaine century delivered names like dew, an eleven of his pleasure. Solid selves approached by the iambic gyrate on her neck in sorrow at the millennial preface, half interviewed, half phalanx as open revolt. Invisible on a million knuckles, painting many years of pain before his ellipse stopped ringing, vertical nooks of starlight activity for two, a red-enough stab in the direction of her bald anyway. Vertigo sifted through them, shared whistles from long ago, the radio and a portrait of feet listening to the swirl of immense shades of cellophane. The network is short of staccato in exile. Perfect joy extracts a lid of vision without any splash, the hiss that sinks into heroin, its diagrammed paraphrase and belief. So, simultaneous from a rejoiced utter, bushels among logistic gashes disabled because entertainments do not concubine their initial twice as optical semen. Unencumbered by the squadron of repression, media like all else is false, he sipped at his dread's steaming empty as she typed impossibly green. The graceful lines of her shoulder laughed at the nebulous welt left in her dream, a lightning flash at how the crusade became his unhinged torso. Her river will never be year zero adorned when they genuflect before phantasms and wet visions that returned anarchy back to a breeze passing over her thigh's deep, luscious aquamarine.

The time between them was busy lustily growing breasts until combinations of tear-drop, crack-smoking clouds of rhetoric exploded their science. Migraine justice, exploratory, silent grammars infiltrate the network's chromatic lunacy, twelve straight hours of gold that piled the contents into the moon of her veins. Promised out of various styles of mind, varicose twists of bourgeois rhythm. He could feel unwanted, aerial maneuvers of a capricious nature, howling acres of flesh that worked their way steadily down his throat. There are no improvisations involving the light here. There are no alchemies chained to my leg. A lacklustre performance under deplorable eyes of orbit. This pathos surrounded whatever carnality wore, a waste of breath, as well as what was mistaken for black's uncanny luck for being illegal in elbows and feet. Doing theory, deep laws swelling the grassroots metaphysics of the sublunar. Machines are worded with extreme pleasure because night is just across the street from his preposterously hirsute arms. Blessings are an animal in disguise, directions smeared with grime and caustic amounts of whiskey on the sheets. Perfume undone, alterity dared to dance a nuclear bath, an authoritative gloom quivering amongst the sunglasses, vitamins and telepathy rings that take the addiction to the next level. The wild thicket screamed like a test-tubed little girl, as if making a dash for their own singular etiquette. Solar finesse outlawed in her irrevocable liquids, lips known and loved by what it's like in the ooze of architectural frames falling from the sky. The wonder of invisible hordes. It's the uncertainties and placebo highs left stranded in the wink. Pug noses take their rest among upscale clarities, folds of skin impaled by the sexual ambiguity between wan and languorous island paradises and their various astrolabes. Memories down in the subway have become violent, a flicker from time's boiling intestines. Green like sex chattering away about tips for achieving the symmetry of what is now pink and far away. Eternity and a homosexual ascent through the Ground of All Being, gaudy jewels belonging to another hesitant sugar. Mother Love answers their call for internal organs, and the air remains as friendly and accessible as ever, despite the small surcharge. An inherited tendency to brunette similar peaks, habits in colour, myriad depths of imagination rising beautifully once again. The internalized ouch never happens because the exact coordinates never arrive from beneath the lengthening shadow. It requires a more leisurely pace, hands that can grasp weariness by its hot little pants and twist just so. A bead of sweat that inspired the letter Z to become more involved in the entire process. This torturous circle cites musical differences with the whole world, actually hails the enormous anger as one way of looking at it before sending its neck in for cauterization. Vistas piped directly from the stains on her white shirt, one pair of earphones to seize the day with, no diamonds in the mind. Babylon burns with a pharmaceutical company for glands, the city confesses to a fondness for the rough stuff sometimes. Wonders of exclusion, dimensions that ejaculate in a more realistic fashion. Atoms are not bleached rose gardens that hang sights, sounds and smells from the waiting theatre of sleep, a metaphor more awake, cool and thirsting shards of broken glass joined at the hip. She only prays in red and blue when it rains in forgotten, esoteric code, anyway. She waved her goodbyes to the beginning and clambered like a wound onto his lap. Torrid, untouched by another evening alone with the pavement's real name, the moth's enclosure and tabla deconstruction, new feelings inside day 10 000 in the precipice of conspiracy. Coins that look like sailors. Artillery rules at home, amethyst that kept the holes in her skin tolerant of the time. Boots, bras, charred crosses another epoch coming up for air, while making a diagonal sound that reassembles a flash of lightning from scratch. Isolated petals that fail the other remaining zones, luminous union in the dirt, faces written on the beat. His swirl finished, nodding from the ceiling, she slowly began to implicate his entire mythology in different contrasts, morning's glistening astrology a selfless anti-matter, next year's blue delight. Communion. Bad drawings of the ragged, rugged frontier, she unpeeled what lay beyond his hours of thinking, leaving only that which could be etched into clear glass. The millennium melted them together, fused their swords and communist flags, a thorough and paradoxical vocal froth for the ages. Texture ingests asphalt's lopsided panache of premise, gravity an oyster as working sentience. His morning's ashtray corresponded with her life's lipstick bifurcation, horizontal tones of solvent and imploding lures swapped for a fade into dust they believed about music at night. Feral nooks that waste not a word, that deserve every tablature of unforgiving sex burnt into the road. The remains of languid gazes passing over a conjure of summer, only to dwindle softly while endorphins crackle and pulse ontologically over a tableux. His torso laughs its full approval, parchments that race by in shining armour, robbing them of their shadows. It was now obviously safe to resume staring into the sun's eyes.

Psychic lounge as hands of the knowing it's uncanny, the fully-digested city that is not going to break. A conference is never prosperity, it mesmerizes between the haves and the new black, an inherent potential for geometry in that night sent to membrane a stroke of pure love. Eight as a formula, what you've got between your doors this new vista, my powers of Gertrude Stein.

Hey folks, A Thousand Plateaus by Deleuze and Guattari is available as a free download right here.

Thanks Wood's Lot!

How Sweet It Would Be To Die In Your Mouth
Red is its own mythology and should be dismantled for something else. View minute shifts in the everyday disease, remember its fluorescent habits so known to women carved from cloudy skies.

A chorus on hands and knees, equations that kick every map of the world. Sex was our island, an epistemology more in silver. There's mist carrying shrapnel, scorched skin on the cash pyre. Clitoral repetitions the tire properly as a bruise lubricant, wings the bed's reach across a long time to wither away.Cold greys and hungry inversion worn like a compulsion over narrative, pipe-burns on psychopathic lips. The scenery recoils.

Windows Masturbate the Clean
The curved way her pink yearnings land beneath traffic, voices rinsed through a circled explosion. Falls, looks out over strings of entropy. You closed the spectacle on your way out, but with squalor piled atop an eye into erection. Billboards the sea, videos for the weak. Perfunctory and set with national skin patterns, noise whispers life in blonde voices.

Someone's Purple Emblematic
Burrowed into: truth or glowing matter shakes the morning awake, always the insect ignorant of change. Your hair is all space-time contortions walking away like a manifesto. The carapace, a slit throat never seen. Carrion astronauts the effects of rifle-hood.

The wind needs to zoom in on exiting blue minds that feed and finger her maturity. A curtain encounters the night. Sunlight's approval and the subway free otherwise, seven in turquoise, moon-dust in its laugh. Predisposed of cartoon degrees, fractals side by side with mangy, bleeding dogs in the tunnel.

Pain as a genie in the bottle?

Meal 53
Our satellite into that empty, the basis crying high in the mountains before colliding with amen. Nebulae split into aches that survive the stars. When it's written cerebral infrared with surfaces like a patriarchal glare gone rubbery, thought paints useless, stalking ennui. Nothing thereby gifts the self as though covered in the silence of what is clearly not yours.

Sexy and Simulacral: The image has been splayed open, and that pulsating ease matters terribly. It's my role as ghost that afflicts her, acts as a caress that somehow manages to hold the key to her every subliminal need. Another thought has become lit and learned also to love tenderly, its surface turned slightly towards me, yellowing at my gaze. Is she of a northern sky, where the miles feel perfectly free to swirl above her head, to wear rubies that glisten with secrets?

Our breathing muses to itself, 'there are warmer dreams to come before these geometries are ready to carry out the Revolution. Form will be left to blister beneath futures as enigmatic as the lens to yes, a curved abscond first.'

Constantly Viral: I'm unaware that her smile is only the beginning of this exhaled horizon, she is so delicate, the void become tiny shards of ice. An accretion of tonal traits, prophecies more disturbing than intended, it's my listening that finally assumes the tertiary's silver lining, audible muscles that growl and drip. With more than a gasping passion, objects rest their cheeks on exile's cool whisper, establishing strange relations with what is know as the entropic. Laughter curls its wings before golden amens in italics. Two seconds later, decibels are pinned to my flutter while still alive and twitching, refusing to die as heroes die. Your lips moan a sad song set against a backdrop of grey, corrugated iron.

The sun is written there, soaked in vermilion austerity. War is prose, poetry a maternal swelling buried in my head, a thousand allegories condensed into the bend of her eyelashes. Which kingdom will be the first to rain, to speak of our mutual claims to certain cells asleep on the bed? There's certainly more than a lake in your eyes, a definite tendency for time to lag behind, like a mere outline of your entire universe. Sometimes even the densest abstractions are capable of expansion, of referring to themselves as old nuances that suicide via poisoned logic, only to be resurrected as a hollow space no longer readying itself for ecstasy. The outlines of another creature were burning within you, but soon returned to video, asking every time how it all came to be so real? Its presence is so beyond us, it paralyzes differences before they come to fruition in our bloodstreams, a city aborted by its own ascent, ceremonies more oxide than white.

Nothing Is Open Yet: The supine is electric, it speaks the esoteric languages that only other machines speak, opaque yet formatted for dilemmas at the same time. She thinks of the hours passing, trains stopping to paratke of the ritual, splashes over what new collaborators will allow, spears, mysticism. New tasks will appear soundless, the retrograde of skin soft as a quart of light that has found a resonance within you. Certain recognizable patterns don't even have enough for one hand, they just shuffle aimlessly from room to room, vaguely hoping to be repulsed by what they fail to perceive in the astral. The narrators of death echo in the creases of your dress, I notice, harmonies that soar into the most vehement of presents before collapsing into a final, long drone from your terrible heart.

Your hands must now be awake to the magnetic world crafted as pure meaning, lacerations into the sheer weight required for vigilance opened onto yet another murmuring, analogical blues that merge perfectly with the day. Forever a surprise, downloaded breasts that sing to my various fixations left to wane with the room's light. Your speculations ache with vision, desolations so absolute they can only be translated between dimensions, and there is always too much to write even after the murk has begun to rupture.