4. Small, nocturnal creatures that attack fabric or wood. 5. One who mouths. 6. A window with no glass. 7. A piece of raw story, with a sprig of parsley on top. 8. To wear a knife...
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Sing, sing, its bronze plumage bared for the first audience that will listen. Be it trees. Be it reed beds. Be it wind through the moorlands which it has been mimicking. It is a mutable thing...
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The Lady of the afternoon shades remains
caustically unembarrassed and
better on intemperate days,
blinded in summer in winter in spring
she listens to her heart shivering
pop goes the eschatological cherry...
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We use other words for what we mean, and we weaponize the alphabet in both our languages. I’ve come here just to make you try to get rid of me again. I’ve come to make these people cry...
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...all I do is usher her into and out of
a little cloud of smoke
trying not to rupture its delicate ringlets...
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...isaid/ itfeelslike/ speedingdownonewaystreets/ nodirection/ nostoplights/ and/ &/
andthecarsdonthavebrakes/
doesnothavebrakes/
imeanmyheartdoesnthavebreaks/
imeanicantbreathe/
icantsee/...
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Some believe it absorbs
all negative energy, can attack
demons, ghosts, black magic. Use it to clean
your aura...
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I know enough discarded parts, landfills of hips and thighs enough
to call it contagious, to lose the vision of women, communities of fleshy girls with bony hearts, bony girls with fleshy hearts, enough to blanket the world twice...
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From here they look like one set of variables in a three-part algebra problem—a point of departure, a destination, the distance between. Read closely; parse the givens; set a clock ticking...
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Hi, I'm serpentine & will be eaten in two weeks. I've exploited
these simpletons since I was evergreen & now I think I'm ripe
enough...
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"When a zygote and another zygote love each other very much, they fuse and have gnarly, biologically-wrong, sad, incestuous clone-sex for the rest of their lives and end up becoming:
chimera..."
The night moon vanishes into the morning clouds. The colors blur into the spectrum. The voices recede into the distance. The way words begin vanishing inside the white page.
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So we wondered and I guess it was only for a few seconds as she was at a pay phone in the rain or was it the wetness of the neon lights' drizzle, with some semi-anonymous city expressing itself...
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