Thursday, January 20, 2011

Tos Sing

the hat was coughing the corn was cou
ghing the boil tummy coughing and
my shadow cancer coughing I was c
oughing in the wetindex I was coug
hing on the ladder falling down a
well at the wall of coughing I was
thumbing through my fingers co
ughing full of glee and glandly I
was coughing at my smouldered gun
and coughing coughing through my so
ggy book its pages damp with
lung illumination my coughing cup
spilling down my leg

The Fallen Hand

nor I grabbed the liftgate sod
den focus for the floorword roll a
noon abismo circled in the lake my
eye .tasted gnats and clouds I
torn the suitcase bouncing off the
bed oh muddy bumper reflecting
on the tree I curled into my
shirt and stroked the crows in
there your face’s sudario your
last redaction crumbling in the
g gra ave L

The Green Sun

sendero soy e ya’ax k’iin que cae
en mi tripa la luz comida ,la luz my
luggage storm .the day fingers mano
,cerrada ,y tu cerrado abierto just
drink it down in atlli in tletlli mas
dormido ,ábrame la boca spiral spee
ch jiggling on the wall my mucous mo
co my mumbler hueso wakened in
k’uul la puerta inversal hacia la montaña
esfumada in tepetlli in huey atlli my
crowning fingers wet and burning

Wet Talk

the shuffler says the crown con
geals the sudden north burns .dus
ty leg ,my castle mumbles like
a frog boiling in my shoe my pen
is wrote in mirror noitceted loosely
ground like tuna in your ginger ale
.fog sandwich in my pocket in my
drainer shirt the grease sprouting
from my head¡ o crusted air o
melting nickels on my vomit plate
! the footless one cleaves to you or
from ,coughing up on all the doorja
mbs I’m caulking backwards ,stu
ffing it all in my mouth


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home