Friday, November 6, 2009


guts and legs dome or ,beeswax gl
eaming on your thumb oh spitting in
your hat you real to me ,fluttering
like an egg )nor time( wanders lou
dly whistled... your boots meal lug
gage taped across my face a cloud
and wrinkled stone the whining lau
ndry where my user comb is sinking
.so that’s ,a loot crystal ,a dog a phone


itch the shore’s stapled finger in
my head I aped the moon an slept
.mice and foam .coffee rises in the soup I
aged I spooned the corn slugs ,gagging
on that page we dropped into the hole the
oil filled .it’s a clock or rope a
plunging in the “suit” scratched off .the
labeled door the singing bread the form of
luggage flung out the window all those
flapping sleeves and dropping socks .so I
fumbled for my notive motions on the floor


the raft brick the paw shingle the
fire faucet running down the hall
I c ollapsed my s nore my l ousy
ask tentation issued all the loots
.stubby kinda ,flamed an corned ,ag
ed the sugar in my suit like boiling h
air ,you sn eeze you h awk you
do uble n aming all the lints your
tooth collection :oh my spinny one
my toolnest grabulation folded
in my pants I sit in you an thi
ckly laughed ,clinging to your slaw
and wire ,falling toward the wall


pool crust
nod soap
logg log


door my lies
shoe chew
sundry etch


lobo crático
luna lunar

el cerote humeante


piece of

bend the hole



sheaf snappy
long slug

ta ta


eel my rroomm
ha ho
plenty mustard


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