Sunday, April 20, 2014


hunch   cross  the
c   o   r   n

the fog was mute

cricket and cracker jack


I was?

I was mailing my face I
was drawling the list I
was crumbling on the bed
I was not an inch I
was coughing the phone I
was dripping on my shirt
I was not the soup I

wandered off

the combustion

este cristal aguarda the
white sea’s foamy st
airs lo bruto por boca s
wept the stilled fog sin
dientes the bright dream es
te cristal es pan disappearing
no venido piled in the dust
incandescent imagination
cuando lo fuerzan on the
flaming stage que ya no
tiene cariños animales bur
ning again y toma la horma
de los sustantivos plastered
on the wall wandering ink del
individuo incoloro pasado
overhead drilling the ears
y no dáse por ninguno de
los x-rayed ashes del cos
tado del spare intention
of the buried wood que por
boca venidera es shattering
the mown distances y en
cuanto transparencia es
silence sin dientes opposing
gravities y márchase a
hora fled from the park

Emerged from Ivan Argüelles,
“De rerum natura”, 2014, &
César Vallejo, “XXXVIII”, de
Trilce, 1922

the spit

bill ,an nneck a ,a ppill
laundered ,b leak inflat
uation of yr ,plod tomb
.softer swell ,uh uh t
emple full of rice Worms
,yr p lunger ,boat sunk
,flagging clown where the
seat re jects the ,uh the
,twirling in the supermarket

                  “knotty beast  W   w


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