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Hot in languor, lean hip on steel
Wet jet black rock yawning - time is time is tar
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a sun gone all arachnid, predator star, licking teeth deep behind a hot mask
i pray my fingertips are rubbed raw
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around me, statued angels snore, bitter or
pitted with the repeated scoring of acid rain - moldy stone, bored
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gently i rush clear liquid onto crags of ice
i feel the song of the bar
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Each chemical sentence fires off in the seek of company, and
from lips, together, we speak it
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is being at peace being peaceful? my hands look like tapestries, i am
ungrounded. is this softness? right to left and again, crossed with
by Saint Jai
54 lines, 2 comments,
on May 6 9:23 AM
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not over him, not over that schmuck, that pigeon
nor over rags of sky reflected now in perspex
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hey man, take note - i am still solvent.
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poor mars, then, full bodied,
just spun a little too far out from solar light
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i pass then, on the retreat, through the old arch of stone
that held more understanding - standing stoic are womens words:
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my standard is a lion, an angry cat cross-stitched onto the flat
of the fabric banner, leonine and brash
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oh, my heart longs to dangle on that line,
drying out with damp shirts and hallowed elbow patches
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space, art,
firey, dark-haired women, eyes full of 'know'
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I ransack drawers, run frantic and hot bones through clothes
find out thimbles, skin cells, coins, elastic, wrappers
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one of these things
is not like the other
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Only light orange, fake, bright.
Stars inchoate and old, slushed winter still cold
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down stairs, come on, get heart, get it hard, thump it,
drum, drum, come on. out, onto asphalt, come on.
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Fuck, man, when you make yourself against your mother,
do you have to strike a pick against your younger brother?
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tongue along lip, finger grip under bicep,
press fibre like cotton, tighten tricep
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pick crocus, eat saffron. yellow tongue, yellow tongue.
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I echo gone brasil
I mourn the colours lost
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It is an edge.
And one side, one side drops off to this
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Wax falls from my hair in fleets of white product, droves, and then from tips to roots
The shock of ginger becomes unstraightened
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The wind is tearing at my heart
The wind is searing, bearing through
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How was I supposed to bear so much metal
I did it, you know, despite it.
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Each half of soul has bit of bitter peach, as peaches split
Each happiness I see is but a monstrous thing, a fruit
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Friendly soot – once the blood of chimneys only - now pumps and chokes roots and branches
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I remember your gypsies sing and your orange blossoms kill weddings in blood and run precious.
that was marching porn, that was powder.
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There are hedgerows everywhere, filled with the twiggy nests of birds
and fat disney beehives wound like coils of golden hair.
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my fingers, god, weak fingers! they can't make the hold more fierce, and we spin,
falling like some old man-made discuss flung by a god a
by Saint Jai
47 lines, 3 comments,
on Feb 1 2:12 PM 2008
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