Monday, October 19, 2015

the turquoise naked

my face the hum mu
ck s tick y in the
sullen fucking cross the
itchy stream's prim
ary erection fills
the grass where grass
was air or dribbled
ether of a minor leg a
slab where fucking
times the risen lustra
tion devised the sc
reaming beach of refu
gees or mercury wh
eezing in the breath
if breath a cup of
ants were wind lo
nging for the knives
rusty in a dist
ant library thick
with crickets and ins
criptions of fingery
death or fucking

While dreaming through
Ivan Argüelles' “The Classics”


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