Friday, May 23, 2014

the world of burning

fulminous ,gated ,chow
dered the rancid mussel
or ,yr tongue a ,towel
gushing sodden f lame wh
,at dribbles down my “leg”
- the outer crank - I ga
thered all my - f laking p
ages w ,here yr open sh
irt exposed the extra ear
o))dim with lint  o s hine ou
tside the laundromat  !)yr
smouldering socks sack yr sh

Din pomii šasiţi de amurg în adǎile noastre
- Paul Celan

in coatl

my melted riñón my
owl hamper de plumas
atestado “como narco de
balas” vomity ni
ght sleeping in the book
- where you wobbled a way
where the silver burned wh
ere my mouth te comió el
hambre  ,“sure was b
ought” ,el cogote de luz a
travesado te vvv mastico la
)cara enrevesada( it’s yr
itch an dripping inch yr
fog sandwich hid inside
yr shirt

...plumas, escamas, exhalaciones...


black beac

spore of Goonka’s folded
tent a lingo for the
trees’ dusty s s s  tones
~ ~ ~ wind’s llint
toward sea drift ing

lunch & foghorn



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