Wednesday, March 9, 2011


in a convict's smear, reflexion
the taken wall
the “ease of wheatsheaf” of trouser scat

my name is pete
your dirge is here
e flat is faggots
you made it


flags' two lumber barrels of salt
paramedic unit fit into the further crosswalk
lanes of what's a road seen left, turned
or taken

top off
means raised surface
lips nearer to take off that top

the mound drain off
for crop seeds raised
sending off excess

I step on grates
feel for some edged out
fall it's in what a neighbor made in likely rage

pick my voice out in the student hall
a store what sells pieces
of somebody here's mother's dress

I am eating a penny
so Stace's Jane Eyre place's lost

a store a body juggling
each piece has to hit though


folds heat in
could be but that my finger lost gorged of
vasculitic movement, rearranged
as this unnecessary bone I need

a clerk's reference to “vaginas”
I keep challenging “what?” until
's too annoyed to finish it

“taking the air with their babies”
meaning the hell out
pick sizes of cokes
you can afford the number
of kids of


it's too much
not to talk like
you want it
but sound like that sound
a, say, whittling damage

want you to whip
without indication

there is no purity
there is no form
there is no reprieve
there is no painterly ostentation
there is no trust
there is no pattern

fear is a rabbit
some riverine ambigram
you could eat, split to
you could shave when you come over


wait that can't happen
it suits me

your curiosities


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