In a land of ice and mirth and explicit promise - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"
I don't hunger for your glittering glory - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"
Trading gold for flesh, lives for legends - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"
Your exotic rampage through the annals of myth - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"
Backing away in a trapped circle - Bruce Boston "Alien Quarry"
The lightning and thunder rush of his thoughts - Bruce Boston "Alien Quarry"
Woven from cloth whole and tattered - Bruce Boston "All the Starry Audience"
Shattered forms scattered across the landscape - Bruce Boston "Beyond the Clouds of Paradise"
Beneath the wry shade of the architrave - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"
Herein lies the hard pentagonal truth - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"
Appraise the aggravated fortune of the stranded millions - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"
Can still evoke the canticles of rage - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"
With little hope of reaching our destinations - Bruce Boston "Chess People"
Sleep safe in the shade of civilization - Bruce Boston "Children of the Mutant Rain Forest"
A shadow dream of emerald possession - Bruce Boston "Children of the Mutant Rain Forest"
A vacuum that devours all it surveys - Bruce Boston "Curse of the Void's Husband"
Streets and buildings in constant flux - Bruce Boston "Dream People"
Directions to our shifting destinations - Bruce Boston "Dream People"
Remain lost between event horizons - Bruce Boston "Dream People"
Our own altered histories and future visions - Bruce Boston "Dream People"
Infinite in its potential and terrifying in its command - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"
And threatens you with dark possibility - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"
Down a hall where your portrait becomes ancestral - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"
With an accelerating appetite that can devour generations - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"
A dynamic rendition of the hospscotched [sic] past - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"
Roam the empty highways in search of life - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"
Migrate through the walls of deserted homes - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"
Become manifest in abandoned bedrooms or kitchens - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"
Stealing into ruin as the centuries unraveled - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"
Through gray streets beneath an ashen sky - Bruce Boston "Gray People"
Wearing gray coats and monochromatic expressions - Bruce Boston "Gray People"
Gray and threadbare from the passage of many feet - Bruce Boston "Gray People"
Pallid dawns and pale sunsets enclosing our gray inclinations - Bruce Boston "Gray People"
Have nailed and sealed the universe complete - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"
Down to the last stray molecule and rebel atom - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"
Turning baser metals to golden illumination - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"
The last alchemist will retreat to a birdsong wood - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"
A rushing stream clean as a burning flame - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"
The bruised & bloodied vocabularies of the urban night - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"
Up through the poles of a dead telegraphy - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"
Impaled on the pinnacles of a brassy skyscape - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"
Give her back her time-thorned flesh - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"
Rendered in disparate jigsaw flashes - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"
Aware that the entire cosmos may be watching - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"
The majestic blooming of the century plant - Bruce Boston "A Life in the Day Of"
Assassinates the art of nuclear mystics - Bruce Boston "A Life in the Day Of"
Drink peppermint tea with the ghost of morning - Bruce Boston "A Life in the Day Of"
So we could inhabit a circle of power - Bruce Boston "Marble People"
Far above the antics of such childlike games - Bruce Boston "Marble People"
Hidden in the branching veins of earthbound stone - Bruce Boston "Marble People"
A release from light years passed - Bruce Boston "The Music of Deep Spacers"
A vast and haunting refrain that echoes the depths of space - Bruce Boston "The Music of Deep Spacers"
Temporary lodgings beneath the static of the stars - Bruce Boston "The Music of Deep Spacers"
Float to the moon in origami rockets - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"
Astronauts from a childhood fantasy - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"
Up from their craters and their moon caves - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"
Just the right sort to carry our dreams - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"
The poisonous elements in our own composition - Bruce Boston "Parchment People"
A recurring nightmare about being trapped in a Mason jar - Bruce Boston "Signs You Could Be a Clone"
A clock that makes a different noise every hour - Bruce Boston "Surreal Domestic"
Engines of desire roaming the lost highways - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
The inversion fields of an autodidactic summer - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
Urges the palomino up a burning slope - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
Moon frenzied by outlaw pollen - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
Echo in the corridors of skyscraper dreams - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
Fireworks in fields of feldspar and lace - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
The sun shot brilliance of a polished knife - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
The astronomer on the far side of the moon - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
The borders of peripheral vision - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
Archipelago of dream plastics already ancient - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"
A reality framed by random association - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"
Metaphoric explosion and grotesque hyperbole - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"
Startling revelations lost in the moment - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"
Liquid ticking in a petrified railway station - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"
Gods and goddesses of geometric exactitude - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"
While burning herbivores strolled across a lean horizon - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"
The substance of the world began to sing - Bruce Boston "When Clock Is Egg"
Distilled in the hard flesh of the moment - Bruce Boston "When Clock Is Egg"
Tying down the wind with rope or chain or tackle - Bruce Boston "Wind People"
Hydrogen bubbles exploding into light and energy - Bruce Boston "The Would-Be Gods of Sonofusion"
We have tapped the heart of the sun - Bruce Boston "The Would-Be Gods of Sonofusion"
Embrace the stubborn dream of perpetual energy - Bruce Boston "The Would-Be Gods of Sonofusion"
Snippets by Bruce Boston & Robert Frazier in collaboration.
Poet's Wikipedia page.
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