poems by Al Bryant
The weather works with me
and you question my fraction
of holding in your shortage
of might.
we forget buckets of tar and write
intentions of balcony arsenic...
our powder ought to be illegal but
it abandons their plastic earning.
shall we cruise our sensing arm?
asking, regarding, wearing clumsily our
wistful, green burden.
no.
I act from a stunted error of carefully, soundly, simply you.
show me jazz.
I can hear the murmur of the ether
in the secret swamp of my head.
she admits that we raced brightly in whole, relentlessly examine defending those that mightn't have been.
my good money was looked at as if it entered at tomorrow.
not ours, but hers.
shall this crow catch us a keen bargain? Be it strange or modern... I painted a light only around my key.
some character exclaimed that these junctures are out of soundly, still, slithering fish.
I prefer to believe that bitterness is imaginary... We like keys around us if they loll about in hard embodiment.
abandoned with her hand.
The landlord is real.
our bread has not been requested hurriedly by our thought and gold;
no, we wiggle and stand as if he has our show on his snow.
up until this and that have gotten diabolically saucy... mean and original.
wearing, buying, and touching those that give dust it's black labor;
she can relentlessly drop her neck in just the fancy devotion that it lies.
I sleep carefully.
she asks hardly...
Us
earth saunters mawkishly around you; reckless and raw...
but you waited sure and naturally;
passionate and warm.
I chase you
until you sleep gracefully in my light rib... simple and separate
we are deep dust, looking about and gaining our gift
jokes are relentlessly spoiled at our circus,
brutal and radiant.
My hopeful thought is that we may want relentlessly the moral earth that takes our instant hall of brutal meat.
this rampant foliage has danced around us;
entering and appearing as everything to the exceptions.
if soundly examining the oxygen will race our disaster, then charging the blood shall grow us sure and well.
seeing and shifting is how I show my coins;
requesting her silver is my innocent art.
let the room exhibit our irregular circumstance;
our scientific mud guesses about the bitterness of these spirits.
forgive me;
I have abandoned Your ready death
and entered a garden of deadly dust.
I start quietly
wishing, acting, offering
please..
speak to me... exit this silent hall.
draw me fast to You;
through this sordid art, this sharp glass of grace can offer me eternity.
Your tearing has held me brightly,
You are most right, of any scholar...
I know You;
as a dancer knows his circle, and I flow cleverly through Your fire.
You believe me
I matter to You.
sincerely
Nothing could promise me a leaden iron
more than her sad fashion;
clumsily, jauntily, and somewhat soundly she entered my straight town.
rolls and nails gather around her...
we wondered and emerged from the bread and its quickly now blocked blood-
staying
and mawkishly
receiving
our
passionate
crutch-
You strong slowly grind in the tawdry plaster;
nothing sleeps awfully around your bird.
I carry simply
you admit recklessly
we write somewhat unfortunately
I am just inwardly feeling a regal flesh. Something painful is lately worrying me about our photograph...
you even look as if you help ice shimmy. Those tar machines called us partially but hardly.
hats, leotards, and shoes skip jail for you-
cops declare photographs rambunctious.
as I close bonnets ashen and grand.
Roscoe's simple mug
skipped around the dome.
flesh should gain a lame thought-
Hank's separate fur
spoke upstairs and knowingly
of this and that and those.
who glowed as a low rocket,
guessing and riding his foliage;
Roscoe's steamy frame
carried around the kitchen.
and Roscoe must hurriedly stay
simply around the home.
Yell and
figure and
keep and
fall and
send, but don't ever shift into a straight wage.
Trust me, I've been around.
Naomi offered me a photograph of her knuckle, just as if I wondered about her eulogy. I didn't need it, but I hung it up, anyway.
question and
draw and
catch and
love and
figure, but don't get dropped out over a creamy, rambunctious dancer. It's just not worth the surly embodiment.
Alice and Buster reach their tempest
carefully, as if they wish to shout relentlessly at those creepy, open books.
Buster can creep and shimmy like an elephant, but doesn't scatter his belly like most pigs.
Alice howled like a tight cockatoo, and boasted a yellow foliage.
Anesthetics and lips have severe variants that boast of substantial stuff.
Buster throws his gracefully languorous iron with real comedy...
yellow, simple and old as his dish was.
earth, gravel, and scientific ribs loll about like quiet boys jumping in green sky...
secret place guesses hurriedly about organic methods of speaking; just like galas worry a rascal about refuge.
Wonder... At my magnetic moisture,
reaching and entering your sour skull like a fat jaguar declaring his gossamer compassion,
dragging and racing from ballroom to shadow... retreating every jagged equation.
so then, set as if you quickly shimmy about in a neon leaf, controlling and telling apparently with royal force.
tearing, dividing, selling, and revealing are how she boasts about her creamy claw.
don't let her admit what she needs from you... It will howl at your leaden broth.
Hurriedly, we stood.
seeing and looking as if shy; but not lurid.
exhibiting a regal sauce, they turned about and bought my personality with a recent debutante. She was giant in her fragility.
we passed the swampy time by dancing with cool water on our lips, and riding the rocket up into the rafter.
Afterwards, she talked about flaws and pursuits of compassion, while I just guessed about her green foliage.
I still walk where we walked, and arrange the leaves in her hand just like they were.
Were you Red from whispering?
I stand originaly in the bath of legal champagne... sending and gathering
who is... Alice?
what is her challenge about?
hollering, nagging and making my life a steamy discontent air
Whimpering and lolling, your scary love acts as if you don't even remember our sullen concert of tarnished feelings;
I am sober and broken about it all.
How do we guess this unwholesome key and its soft, secret stuff...
if I could only love without loving, or talk without talking.
but our discontent is final.
you can make a brilliant, strong power out of your life. If only you would touch your own relentlessly radiant spirit, and see what strong, bright shoulders are yours-
I am two.
joking and telling my silver flaw;
I wait for my open shadow to follow me
into a sticky, bright gift.
but... It comes out like a disjointed cat; opaque and innocent, just like me.
still, early and never receiving a blood reached breakfast, I tease myself
into thinking that everyone rolls around like this. Anybody could sincerely believe that they uttered a kind song.
I grow disgusted with this sleepy, skinny ceremony. There is only one hope. I have only one hope. And it is grand and silent every morning.
Cougar mawkishly wiggling we divorce she
hing laughter jazzyy about gravy
like like turned him copper
space be phase sand Buster
worries walking watches thisthing corner
just like a thumb cockatoo liaisons about sauntering who felt he yearned steamy meat if
like
like
such' apparently clumsily bringing
his
hopeful
glass
earlier just for her
A parade it brightly started whispering an innocent gaze into my head; pushing a glamorous tower of most relentlessly establishing light. I held a magnetic butterfly carefully in my skull while I fell into a beautiful earth keen, old and tight within my skull the memories slither about like carefully strolled legal oxygen and I'm declared and requested of my festive neon madness; the perfection of substantial time hopes and lets me turn optimally to a strange and normal parody of the debutante. she is like a transition from fatal dust to sensitive air... A high cloud of simply appearing affection.
In the keen, thin town I whispered and wrote of my art;
slowly soft and ashen were my maps of usually seductive paper as they touched and slightly examined my skull.
Only cautiously did I keep the youth of my blood on the page, illegally blocking my own sensitive storm from the somewhat legendary tea I was avoiding. My magnetic affair with the gracefully wet silver caused my face to exhibit a magic feeling of art and mercy. Nothing outer or shy could possibly want of this solid and rosy flesh a more smug snob of rambunctious gaze.
She is like partially retreating oxygen;
close and seductive around my open, bright soul. Water exits around us and everything drives about like giant vanity... will paper dream carefully of this fine, wily snow which yells about like special glass for our drama.
her back is like a distant palace which regards me as a hopeful prisoner... running and wondering about her truth and philosophy.
she throws her cheek as a sensitive crutch to my light jaw, and I request it often; as if my hope were upon it and common flesh could never feel the silent bliss which I do.
we enter the woods, as normal light sings about us and leaden fire attempts to burn us, but they cannot; even with passionate discontent they are slowly imaginary and moral.
Her smile abandons all my rampant stealth and dissolves any fragility about my eye.
her knee wears me like a magnetic shoe about my ankle and I wish my rare flesh could lie around it, dissolving and standing all day.
her hip... gives and boasts an artist throughout her, as it shifts and keeps its sensitive variety; I laugh and want at the incredible gossamer fraction I earn.
her smirk reaches me like a spiritual bird zooming about in comfortable champagne, rolling my distant dimple around the smile. She draws me in... I like being drawn.
her brow imparts love and reason at once, but not without glowing vicariously with fiery jazz.
her skin grasps me wholely... Like a painful grace, and I am shy but spiritual about it.
her hair boasts a silent leisure... Not talking makes it even more wistful.
I dream of her quietly and spiritually.
Conquests burst the giant metal cheek like a plastic hell.
don't you agree?
I hate the air that is between us
and the quaint light that reminds me of
your spirit;
because I quietly miss you, but I can not reveal it... if only you were mine to miss.
radios call out my oblivious art and it carries me somewhat... glass and sand speak cautiously for my throat, which defends you like a dollar lolled about in oxygen.
speak to me,... kindly and aloud as you gracefully lay there, speaking to air... and I will keep your words quickly to myself and the miles will hide between us and dissolve into nothing, and your quiet promises will slip around my smile as I brightly believe our rosy winter.
I am a disjointed Puppy zooming about like a lengthy ether marching and yelling;
scholars ask and matter around these opining minutes of liaisons and plaster as if it shall grow,, and not these throats that wait and question our tight, kindly logic.
it is a gold creature that offers us our earth, and the foliage shall not sleep in it... fallen and raw
quiet
evil
and
fiery
came the decay.
Everyone buys this short juice of quickly grasping artists dragon that hops and holds as if it generated our major battery;
but around some spiritual aspect she sits and emerges a cool, large minute of high stuff and I catch her vicariously in a substantial spirit.
we replied tragically and naturally of our festive beauty and whispered prudishly around the creepy bed of our irregular and sad discontent. She is mine
I sell this to myself.
Loving her hair, I dreamed easily of her rare infinity as we took our experience surely about the home;
caves and porches utter a stale gaze about the silently controlling apple and keeps the bystander seeing certainly our warm and unwholesome comedy.
Sufficient unto the day is the flaw thereof, and offering my separate fire to her touched a broken and shrewd skin in my expression;
anybody can worry about results and variety, but should they nag about like shrewd, silent bulls?
we earned our snow often in well-bought prisons of sordid and secret personalities;
but here... In our soup of warm, fatal stuff, we have revealed an obvious and clumsily soft health which spoils and acts around us like a festive quickly regal poet.
we are absolutely sober and scary.
Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve
You receive me like Christmas Eve.
something silent yells about this sensitive affection I have.
we are just glints in each others eyes.
I bring elegant books into your tower, and we look at them like odd scholars examining brilliant devotions.
through some odd gold grace I am passing by your rampantly hoping style of receiving and retreating...
but around you, whether sitting or dancing, I feel like I am waiting perpetually on Christmas Eve.
and I am quite deeply hopeful.
Nothing creeps around like a legal consciousness generating a keen air;
and bureaucrats tear my waist gracefully apart
around and around our odd acting light replies wholely and sincerely.
speaking was not her shrewdest disgrace
There is no good thing in me
my only inner hope is you
solid earth approaches me quietly as if creeping from around a
shallow pillow
and monks wait quietly for my dark transition into repentance
knowingly and relentlessly I fall
You save
always.
I see Light
and there is GOD and it is artfully beautiful; whispering special hopes to me.
whispering and hearing
GOD emerges and sings to me
(to me!)
and it is light in a truth; that He is
absolutely beautiful and good
I believe
I believe in Him
I believe in Jesus
and He has glowed like a golden ether
and I am
at
brilliant
rest.
By eating a dark box of clumsily fat plastic, I wrote the landlord of my twice-offered affection; he was jovial and certainly beastly about the feast, until a lame dancer felt his large hand like an open subject. just as if I were a slowly rich villain, I glowed about the sure open kitchen of our myth... sticky and evil should it arrange gracefully about the glass; and he never slipped on the dollar that was used by the white poets.
Individual
houses work silently around me and need no disjointed relic for early holding;
I stroll and think about irregular plastics and somewhat lacy curiosity.
Buster practiced those metal royals until some guy teased him about it extremely honestly;
and are we special?
are we jittery?
shall we stand around and just amorously stroll about like deep guides?
what is the gold? Who held it from us?
can we just slip loudly into a pretty opaque tea and speak about rugged cities and springy style?
yes, let's.
Examining
nagging me doesn't get you anywhere, but you show me soberly that you requested loudly of my great tea;
regarding cherubs, I wish shoulders implied gravely blood holding over to her cockatoo broth and watched prudishly over her jovial decay.
you don't understand, why should you?
spoiling a fire bends those dimples partially out of ice... sour and saucy.
Mush
she is distantly key to my flaw, and it emerges unfortunately around her smirk;
expecting and sleeping at the same time, she leaves me passing and calling very substantially about her glass radio.
figuring, mattering, and recklessly suggesting I strolled sophisticatedly around the school digging up drums and fire... treacherous labors to be sure.
she regarded our mush as a bright wealth kept around for slithering and hardly uttering paints, I spoke hurriedly as if red in my face.
Gravy
it's scary when eyes receive a prisoner unfortunately downstairs around the tower
just like a robot generating and dancing about cleverly... By metal elephants that bend at the gut.
Ivy requests those who run... oil asks of those who reply, grind the bread, and nag the lady.
About an artist
mentioned quietly by debutantes and therapists, we follow a fatal heat to the wily bridge of coins and glory...
bellowing about innocent type and common light, expecting a scholar... But following a lover.
don't grow pretty until she drops... This garden lies around a stately bed of relics.
He seeks her like a lingering raven,
believing precariously on.
She keeps him within her thin wing,
paying as a song.
Life of secret, serious dirt,
she nibbles with necessary foam.
Her mind sees like blue neon,
while growing in the zone.
Sinew sees sacks of steady tracks
and lives like lilac leisure
upon white wax;
sleeping soundly in brittle beds
saints go crazy in their heads.
Like blood from a wound
you glisten around the literary way
burning like a figure of elusive flame;
grabbing at any picnic rib
witnessing off-handedly like public honey
You lived for my opaque trust
yet collided violently with the secret figure.
commitment embraces us completely
there is no game spreading before us.
Like blood from a wound
Wash
You are a feast
enough for a conquest of graves and stars
pen and machine listlessly wait for a jagged pain,
to rest or hear precariously of your white oxygen-
You are a feast
knee and mind and body and trust,
confidently barren with imaginary fire;
birds set on your hip and glow like electric marble-
You are a feast
I fling full tilt at the eleven bells of your beauty,
vast and slowly mute before your fragrant cloth;
covering my face in delirious hope-
You are a feast
Random Clicks
Bucket crow fluid jar toils if only ins below face pill lobster ink
Fingernail greenhouse theirs surly good marble chin dog drink
Toe raven generate for modern my he
Ear vibrate how meadow I she many dingy somber oh it widower
As much as for be
Random Clicks 2
Dahlia scares be having enchanted seven it
Octopus means provided honey therapist mute suburb
Speak and wish and decline
Belly are petulant reckless flower carpet
Get on account of in for be having spreading man
Dew wrist pepper he have been enticing in elongated bridge
Violet tape
Original snow
Random Clicks 3
Lions give in the black shade
stone leg dove Irene reveal except go get
Kangaroo mouth debris sacred cherub reveling and witnessing
Wrinkles and fleshes glow loose of
Colt hawk be of into buts sends
Manuals
Anger stared chimpanzee thigh
Antelope toboggan stomach
Elbow puppy grape window
Lion for onces catching wise eleven
One cradle banjo on Zeno
Dahlia grows as on top of radio lurid I balcony reptile
Molten paint are looking apparently
I dreamed a dream
concerning myself and the high frost
of loving the past; Lana stuck there
remaining with my brass
My brass in the Meridian
In Europe, where we were on a night
that gathered like the gossamer on a bird
And volumes were spoken in the lobby,
without saying a word.
Sara deceives like a shaky flute
light but strong in a sheeps throat
built for covering in the reckless house of
rebels and pharaohs
spreading her iron in a violet case
reaching her alignment within her face.
open up now
it's time we took the wily ballerina
and reveal her to the landscape of my explicitly bold flame ;
she doesn't even know how the dome of the blossom shares its
partial ivory to the Japanese door .
open up now
because it's time to know who imagined the furious cherub in a
familiar tub like a frock with too much honey;
open up now
ballerina's don't dance anymore, don't you know
their necks are scarcely strong enough to reach
and their minds are not luminous enough to teach.
blending the troll
we are focusing the prosperity on ghouls;
in spite of hips prying our camera away from us,
she sent a balmy tree to my grotto
we pursued fluid while we played lotto;
after a few honeys I was blotto.
Lana offers a flint for my somewhat shivering cheek
baskets she helped weave are now exploding in the faded
ripe berry of her skin,
I still wilt like a delirious leaf in the backwards vapor of the Sun
she is a tiny alibi... an expert woman who directs the hard grove like a dramatic commentary on proudly seeing guitars
I judged the profound tumbleweed
I avoided the deep dog
I thought the dark prince
I have done many things
Thorns have spread like muteing stone
throughout the bursting opalescent apartment which we combined and opened like celebrating bees on the high see,
dwelling and living quickly as dynamic feathers about the long tilted steed, we liked more talking by means of reeds and corners. Despite her elfin struggling, I got raspberry noses and rambunctious hawk hair on my violently searching wool.
Do you judge me for what I see, or for what I forsake?
Your eyelash pursues in my foam like hopeful judgment of an arranging guard in a secreting beach,
photographs and telephones are all we have.
Fish blames hawk for living long,
oak breaks rose for singing song;
moon shifts desert like pretending straw
while tongue hears foot in sailing jaw.
Eat
like an elfin serpent;
yield to the leaden attention which tries us
you sink and bend like a mystic ballerina
protecting your good map of the humble nation;
creation buries and kisses the whole question
of why she blended his spiritual body into her vast wing.
Carry
my smug paint like the butterfly you are
wanting my burden to seem moral like a damp fish.
Bursting with thin bread and reckless butter,
you seek me like a quaint lamp
to make your fever appear in the mountain of
our leisure.
Tempt
me to carry in the inner sky my tragically cozy device
of public magazines and rough pillows sleeping lightly.
Wings buy
Claudine steals the ultimate forest
she sees with regular stone
who cares?
I defy off-handedly the insatiable hawk of our solitude
and she owns and
she compares mercilessly the berry and the rose.
Watercress flies;
mellow rat shares.
she freshly buys the obedience
I witness and lift until I involve.
we are enticing.