Wednesday, September 12, 2007


Up from a cutting

Straight knife through blue

Vein jack to traffic timpani

Through hoards a thrumming lobes

Little brittle neck line

Not much tube to thorax

Yet yelps the perturbed-ly at lack’s

Staunch vicissitudes of weight loss

Your mongrel mouth

Stops short at bone

But bone comes ever after

As reanimated shoulder jags

The Jarring swing and flex

Tumbles limp armed after.


Slugging from the down

Bent wagon typicals a rhythm stew

Brain squeeze she brushes knots

Because a churning squalor

Ticks juices out of temples

Speak neck notes to zipper

Dimples unhurried vents

Wind tubes out of symmetry

From half lives clawing

Until decay

Sandwich token subway grounds

No call signs left aggrieved

Afterwards ever nerves

Spaghetti-ed juice and slither.

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