Selective

The journey commences in startling fashion,
edging outward from the center of the page.
Truth is a rubber band
slightly frayed from excess use.
I’ve never known you to be gentle,
nor myself for that matter, and this
could be what drives my affection towards you.
Other concerns are wafting through the brisk air,
asking sheepishly for attention.
But our discretion is cold, selective.
In this fluctuating vastness, the details
get swallowed up in the motions
of sound and color and longing.
It is here we find expression.

-r. miller

Lemme Tell Ya About My Process

Must’ve been a mostly pretty one,
though now the lack of fun has seen to that.
Be sure to batten down the eye
and also act surprised
when the guests arrive.
Not that I intend to moralize.
The ways devised are divisive enough.
Derisive speech erupts
through every orifice.
When did you first realize
that artifice reigns supreme?
I think it first occurred to me in dream,
but so many awful, half-baked ideas
arise there that I gave it
next to no thought. Instead,
I bought myself a pack of smokes
and some crude jokes
whose punchlines landed
with all the grace of wet cement.
Come see me after the show at any rate.
I won’t confirm or deny
anything worth remembering.

-r. miller

Nice Narrative

The star junkies awaiting
clapback in their stand.
Cold rim of the horizon,
watery sequence, sups the push.
Lately lush how we provide
slips to foreground.

Nice narrative you got there.
Be a shame if someone…

As for indoors, a mesmerizing spree
spurts its delicacy the fuck over the walls.
From experience speaking
more than mere collisions.
A migratory philosophy
sews outlook bleeding web.
Gnashing marketing schemes
seem as bliss and blood
to the broken brooding o’er their lumps.
Silent mismanaged marginal,
the employment sticks.

Ghost yr grief, mister missus
and in-between. Sleep unseen
with palpable mystique.

-r. miller

A Will

Internalize thinning paint phase, daze
and I sequential bloom.
When is a room not a room?
A deeper drinking disquiets.
The curfews all disrupted.
Lanky fanatical gloom.
Sleazing the airtight cathedral.
I surf the soda jet set, snooze alarm sly.
Polar deficit, le pourdre
too thick and wet to itemize.
Bite me blisters pandemonious.
Stray ahead feathers gather the glow.

-r. miller

The Narrative Gaps

Our Plan B drifted through
the weathered door in the ogre’s ear.
He brought his kaleidoscope
into the mix: what joy!
And then he fixed our dread
in his awful toy.

This is the part of the story
meant to elicit gasps,
but the narrative gaps
are too spacious,
too mammoth to be filled
with mere breath.
And honestly, hasn’t this
been done to death already?

While I make heroic efforts
to steady my trembling right-ing hand,
the whole of history dissolves
into a dazzling drone.
This may be, after all,
the loneliest I’ve ever been.

-r. miller

Leaky Hands

Prancing infection, jubilant
in fuzz of forgetting,
and some ways prone to
leaky hands. Titillate specifically.
So pose me matter-of-factly.
Sinus rats among the mishap,
sleek, disposable.
Quietly pull my gawk.
I possess much itch.
All appropriate, slither sanguine sex.
As belligerent as prose
and almost as exacting,
the night of the world personified in plaque.
Redact artificial vertigo. Slow on we.
The time of hibernation
heaves its hexes.

-r. miller

Blank Stares Bashing


Ease and precision, putrefaction
of ways and means,
upsells vacant lot
mind numb fiction.
With diction, purpose, painstaking excess,
we catalogue these here limits imposed.
Capital outpaces willing,
wants merely to replicate
strata of catastrophe.
Hold me under these gilded waters.
Hold me by the neck
or by the lips in one cathartic kiss.
I seethe with bliss
at the blank stares bashing
like restless waves against my own.
Clarity cut to ribbons,
understanding undermined
by unfulfilled hungers.
We long for something fulgent
in this shadowy waste.
Dust and dereliction
are all that we receive.

-r. miller

Signifier

Here we are well-seated.
We sit well with the whiplash
waking our necks to the throb throb
shock of modernity.

So I have an indistinct payload,
so what? Learn to read between the lines.
These passe expressions
only hinder the cause.

Why do your lips wear the gauze
of humdrummery, through which
only dead language can pass?
Let this teeming indescribable mass

mean something. Let that meaning
break this burdensome rock
that now sits smugly
upon the laborer’s back.

-r. miller

Even the Earth

Such delectable weathers
our minds make matter.
What ever does this clatter stimulate?
Cold is our only dimension.
Even the earth shivers.
Rain goes green in the vial
as does its internal truth.
We ably sap each tooth of vigor
and spit on the sidewalk.
Now underneath armors, ready or else,
the lacking splendor hobbles.
Pause at soapdish, read at exit,
as fire finances metropolitan grace.  
On standby at the fatal moment,
collaboration of flesh and its residue.
Oh how elegantly we acquiesce!

-r. miller