Mark Hartenbach-

Discovering the Key to Nameless Things-
                             
 a larger piece of supposedly preordained is whittled

         down to an elaborate ruse to escape predicament

                   starry-eyed crowned with thorns schizophrenic

               second comings are coming out of the woodwork

  culminating in a grand scheme explosion

               that eventually became imploding blip on radar

               an unnatural juxtaposition purposely missing target

                   then slipping away while the demons slept

   brick kilns became my windmills which became my giants

       which became delusions from which i drew my imagery

                that clenched my hand tightly like i was a child

        then dragged me through all the stages of degeneration

 trembling toward what could be dangerous territory

            to see chalky bones of those who failed  in their quest

     as well as those who succeeded expressing their thoughts

              if only to themselves if only to prove they could

                    rudimentary scales began falling from my eyes

        found uncanny ability to deconstruct the architecture down

        to something which could only have been created by myself

               not yeat's holy manger not rimbaud's leg severed

            not dante's staircase stumbled down in unblinking fear

     not artaud's shillelagh leaned upon in morphine glaze

                      not jarry's death bed toothpick grin

   but finding deeper meaning in all the nameless things
 

Hunger For All Possibilities-

    a chicken bone mojo caught in my throat

          while another shyster

                   with hand in my pocket

      renders my confessions null & void

                            in flowery language

        a monkey wearing a tuxedo draped in affluence

   which looks ridiculous on any primate

          whether deftly making circus

                            catches or all thumbs

         a hallelujah destructs without fear of restitution

   since certain words can get away with murder

      no counterclaim with any validity can change this

    there’s nothing in this stained glass

                     to induce devotion

             to wrap our head around

                 no beads of sweat or blood

                        or a cheap pasted pearls of wisdom

 hanging above is a bubblegum card of the madonna

                surrounded by saintly skulls grinning madness

    troubled cast of characters

             need cleaned up for consumption

     gathered together for what seems to be my benefit

              though admittedly i am delusional

               have never taken to clarity

                  so it’s highly unlikely

        but not entirely impossible