Monday, April 7, 2014


enter ,tousled wore the
toilet brush ,streaming
’f‘ac’e‘’ its shirt of
feathers flames flushed
with page nor index’ b
loated ham’s salt dri
bbling ,wore the stunk
last hat where ,outside
,the lake quivered in st
uttering wind ,through
the sticky kwikie mart’s
gate ,under the tubes of
light ,the rack of maps ,whirling

...des solitudes effrayantes et arides...
- D. Lévi Alvarés, Géographie génerale et
pittoresque..., 1839


the shoe ,snoring ,c limbs
the rat or wall ,where
a hand ,or leg ,sweated
and bright ,left a thought
,of drink perhaps ,or
maybe shells ,smelling
the waist ,a neck ,in
bed ,observes its sleep
,and yr pockets with st
ring are filled ,knotty
but not retied ,rem
embering a wind ac ross
the lake ,where the   
sunken towels defold
,and wrap the stones
,into their green silt
sunk ,and stretches
its wrinkled tongue

...que llaman zenotes.
- Diego de Landa

not the

it is the was the
wore the bed lint
caca the entroito
severed the in
halfa the in tum
ba the swell the
ash burd the  en tu
tripa sorda que me
habla mi tripa la tri
pa sado tha t’s the
luna r thot that th th
at’s the boy ,hairless
in balloon

it is the
- John M. Bennett


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