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Tag Archives: Iain Lim Jun Rui
Cheers Dr Michael, Mescaline, it’s all the same! It touches your fingertips and Sartre’s fear of crustaceans for all to see. No one is sprawled on the river banks without a celery stalk and a sprinkle of pepper and salt. … Continue reading
Screams pewter alike blistery; My deceased bowler hat burying the rousing bird (is Coltrane on a shoulder and this is the subway) and hushed polished greatness. My deceased bowler hat burying the uncommon morning head fixtures and hushed polished greatness … Continue reading
It is always the cheesecloth, fictitious, under the wet sand spoiling the black lake with a Milky Way. Heliotrope is said to present anxiety, decanting metaphors. Akathisia instead burns the lemon slice, thrice, with soft linen strings pulling; Dr. Castel … Continue reading
Only fourteen days to the new moon, and I missed a call, listening to the 9th Symphony, from the pass office. Was it the sound of my keyboard? As I recall, I didn’t write my poem yesterday. Gold was the … Continue reading
Tomes cast a shade on the crestfallen Sophia. A lone human curse? Torments of a wild flower? Antares has stolen the moon! Rejoice Melancholia! The universe is a Kaddish as a poet’s final hour. Iain Lim Jun Rui is a … Continue reading
Today I am stumped by the dark and I need my gin. Or a cup of tea. What about yesterday’s lunch? White broth and a slice of fish? I haven’t written (on) the bed in seventeen weeks. My labrum aches. … Continue reading
The Dirge Of Projectionist Art Is Something I Say Yes To But The Cake In My Mind Says No To Serpent Rain
I often wondered if any screening was a sublime cut to an audience undefined, quiet as a rose or the sea state, the peri-acoustics and three word flashes on the screen that embodies a submerged singularity; is it a calm … Continue reading