a
baby seal singing “a kiss from a rose from the grave” or
something
quay-side:
possibly,
a
container ship of consular Dutch tulips—
i’d
sooner
be
a frantic fragment—
art
not loved
w/in
the maritime requiem of this rainy afternoon—
in
the cartography
of
found language...i.e., she
later
became
addicted
to
potassium bromide, and the marriage
deteriorated...
(i
squint, unaccustomed
to
this indirect sadness) the only fire familiarized
was
in the disputed shrubbery
of
some ‘Leaves of Grass’—
the
transference
was
probably a boat, or a metaphor abt the Titanic—
i
think i was supposed
to
love you, i guess—
but
i was frustrated
i
sd, ‘what nice incarcerated gardens’
then
i mowed
the
unresolved dandelions into detonation
in
the backyard
for
a happier splotch of how-beautiful-we-fucked-up
colour
as
beauty had won its casualty—
i
daydreamed i was on Alcatraz
&
a seagull sd, “let me entrust in you a story,”
the
intimacy, if i trust you
(i
love you so much, historically)
sensually
cascading
the
holy schizophrenia of fresh-cut flowers
as
interpreted
as
a shark attack—
the
blood in the water, whispers, such harrowing solace
where
did you sleep last night, justin?—
i
find a tornado
in
my heart palpitations
its
thesis
is
a Koala bear having a wet dream in a Motown song—
no!
— i’m sardonically crippled
i
find an apothecary in my anorak
i’m
fidgeting w/ the amenity that is a slice of orange
a
toy periscope
bargaining
for a ream of light—
my
face feeling like Piano Piece #13 (for Nam June Paik)
torn
up by ghosts, the presentiment
this
is how memories are crowded clean
teeth
shattered into proof, presumably...
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