02 July 2012

come on in and take off yr skin and rattle around in yr bones # 7

if i imagined Joseph Burgess as a sonnet in Ted Berrigan’s “The Sonnets”

...it was too late, i had already begun
to stash 60-watt light bulbs up her skirt;
dear Harry, it’s 3:21 a.m., stop singing “Cocoanut Woman”
what we need is < Anne > to be a little less difficult.
it’s time to unholster these fairytales:
her shoulder blades of prom photos & butterfly knives;
her heart of backgammon moves in Braille
hidden in the dialogue of “Days of our Lives.”
but it’s hard when her disarmed smile is a woodcut
of a Joe Brainard ‘Nancy’ tip-toeing via
Tulsa nightlife: filth, gin, a slut;
it’s the Stations of the Cross as a palindrome’s trauma

that reconciles the stiletto afterglow of such hallowed, histrionic clouds.
& i’m awake b/c my heartbeat is too loud...


inaugural video of Justin, Etc. reading to things: 

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