Jason Earls



Brittle Dot Earth


    Chapter I
    The Green Rider

With his symbols cast off and his pencil
chewed down he signifies away. Jealousy.
And the new movement of emblems. Symbiosis.
jvr = rvj = vrj. Tripartite associations on paper
surrounding the contrast of straight, round and agate lines.
With germane jewels he hides. Abides. In the J. Ggjj.
Projecting into the cerebral cortex.
Curved textuality. Red block tilt marks.
Purple slit methods for his:
Breath. Berth. Brittle dot earth.
Searching for church. Chug. Cchh.
    "Apples are only green cigarettes," he says
    as the killdeer washes his naked face clean.


    Chapter II
    The Green Rider Censors Everything

From sensual masquerades and forms
to the shooting of nodes out of his hollow groin.
Sshh. Split. Jumping over rectangles on the way
to the rambunctious promenade. The R. The p. Rip.
The green rider's slanted religion
becomes almost unbearable. Healing in Greek.
A precipice suspending all while looking toward skyscrapers.
Like crepe paper. Counterpoise. Continuing the pretense
of hills, lizards, and butterflies.
All of this halting performance jaded.
Green rider hacking through the highway with his:
Breath. Berth. Brittle dot earth.
Tempting the way for catcalls
and locusts in suspension.
    "Cigars are only green trees," he says
    as he breaks the last of the blue fence..


    Chapter III
    The Green Rider Stops to Promote His Book

"After I send a dead letter to Lower Tunguska,
I will penetrate the edifice of extreme reality
to contact departed specters,"
    Abductee 13 said.


Jason Earls lives in Blackwell, Oklahoma as a computational number theorist and poet. He has work forthcoming in Poethia and Shampoo. His favorite mathematicians are John Forbes Nash Jr and Dean Hickerson, and he loves to read Jack Spicer's poems aloud.

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