Ray Osborn

The Five Senses


ISSUE 29 | FACES AND MASKS | JUN 2013

#1

O!, saetas, Satie’s devices and a music
past umbilical and umbrella’d rashes
rushed beyond careful stalemates,
the right to overstay welcomes,
she was elliptical of elision,, came here
no more than a claim to them is here
but my petulant wave of imitation:
confessions shampooed in flow ,, er ,,,
or think, should I have said shrouded?
This is no fragrant ode for weekends,
this is my smile dimly fashioned in war
along the dead cordon,s, of,, hyperbole.

#2

Hyperbole, tell me I’m stuck Alsatian
and I’ll give you formica, pale mica,,,
overthrown in moonlight and, azurite,
man’s misuse of my Face!
Ah, though it be a natural orange hue
or doesn’t sooth and draft,, -er -ed -s
thrown antiphon into pataphor,, qua,
the likes of artichoke, sycophant, or anchorite,,
drawn, I would, glassy as consc - - -
in a shitty collage of water, I won’t, I
gave myself to color or the names of
them more truant than my own hand.

#3

Handled as far as an eidetic velleity,
a neologism is, observe it, itself, style,
accordion, closely smell, observed
and could be considered chirugeonly
in lotus’ lycée of unfolding and fold.
And so unwanted criticism of the
already perfect part that is a part
between two parts, of glass, formed
only by vitiated topical or... tropical
and friable formations: pink scorpion.
If confessional of wrath or pride or is it
amongst sins, then where am I again?

#4

Again I fold and am vitiated in half and half
wonder what it is not...
among what I cherish
in a small addendum:
dreams of my opposite,
of the firmament, it’s you,
speech, from my mouth
I would say that you are
not worn by me, outside,
but are not wrong in me
believe the ephemeral ‘I’
‘Cause that, that, gets at the heart of things.

#5

Things, if in lacity, seem nice,
“then the ramdam will fillip in”
for some sort of wieldy élan,
up above the sehist of clouds

I’m still stuck in, lecher moon
or this fulsome mad involute,
in paean, do, i mean, pagan, oneirism
and where did borbetomagus birthed?

Answer: from salacious lasciviousness
and somehow in fulsome blues.
Some say this extended ocarina
could make a vicar of isotropic entropy.

Appendices #1 & #2

for all this fathomable lexicon
is it ripe or rife? Definition?
From when i wish that anomie
were anemone, and ubiquity
were Ubu Roi, but among the
intractable and logomachy,
ask why, disgust in ataraxia,
there, a stiff rustling,, outside?
In the imagination. Pejorative to
tones that are laced only with
the down trodden coo of doves
or are they nightingales,,(?),,

Acumen, while I was tainted,
by one, the skyroglyph fumes,
dirty and railed across my throat,
tattoo of strict field, interned growth,
where, as she writhes with radium
and it could be further than radium
when daft through with cadmium lea,
the mystery difference caught in name,
born, when my fingers point eclogue
between epsilon and epaulet, call into
my derisive softenings and misanthropy,
-make me a coffer or cosmogonic name, O!-

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