Wednesday, September 21, 2011

each luster flagged was
counter red was aged
or cheesed in by the
gasoline tomada como
agua so the shine retur
ned the key was dro
pped the swirling turd

roof an cloud a clotedge
fries the cortext always
flickered like those fruit
flies drowning in the wi
ne * * * I laid my h
and across the flying

it was it not rat not not
was tumba inundada was
not clunky it was shirt
less runny than was mayo
trickling down my thighs
was it was not was fruitflies
floating in the lamplight

dog towel ,ray gun asp
iration dimly thought
beside my sink where
Johnee fought his eye
or sought what wiped
away what wiped away


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