Sunday, October 6, 2013


es square es numen es
phonetics where yr leg
was mute was mime was
nates was túmulo escu
pitado is not is numb
er is shoreline in the
quivering fog fué pies fué
sudadero mister fué
cans of beans crawled with
ants es sheets es shirts es
foaming from the garbage
disposal time to rinse the
palms time to page the
folded chest its angles
tight its catafalco’s
creaking’s just ,what’s
left from’s breathing
right’s returned’s his
nightly load es shrank es trash

...cock his filmy eyes...
- James Whitcomb Riley

the feet

chewing the horse ,what
nays inside the wall ,a
plunger in the toilet
,dreamed all day’s one
time ,if time re“exists”
,a neck ,cracked ,sl
otted with in itztli so
the heart’s released
from the higher gate
where the head is
llosstt ,and your cou
ghghing smoothes the
sky ,a pencill  f
ffallls on the horizonte
,burning ,so the mane’s
textual wiindd  ‘s
sttiffff with blloodd

tu armario sin candado


the gristle

the fingered head the
latex snore the c
awed shirt lip ful
gurante tún hat wat
er w h i s p e r s
in the sleep tu som
bra’s phrenological
codex’s vaulted no
thing  .the age of crow
ds the scored meat w
here the grass y r
oof smoulders and sp
arks ,aware of legs
and nodding  .forks
clatter from the pages

mi son o mudo


the storm

the blood suit
saw dust 
a turd in the corner
wear the lap
you crusted
dog like
sweaty pile 
where the mud
uttered a s tone
your lungless ramp
)or rant(
coughing in the towel
seems to wind
or squishy buttons

perdus dans le lac


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