Sunday, September 07, 2008

colonel by drive: a rideau collapse

the struggle to be real and not merely adaptive
suffers utterly.
— Meredith Quartermain, Matter

something abt the river

you are tide, where
you are sleep into the bodys beach

risky, & more hopeful

on her bruised cheek where indirect

rivers lead to smaller rooms

the red lines get the girls

a stone upon your hollow


sweeps, into the slip of water

a realistic now, & then

arranged into a velvet spire

the worth of noise a fingernail

draining dows swamp into lake

an ecology of beer & irish

strata of pure produce

an observation figures on a ledge


an engineering feat, of tall & thin

blur the hands that feed

intention like a halter

I see three animals in turn, a clot

the list of species fall

go down again; that stone, that path

what feeds jaw dropping mouth

a total sum of relation, unearthed


or during what, combines

endures against the width, a question

I cant say I love you

a bag of useless flesh; erasure

from one of the outside

erodes a path of progress, stress

or grouped in whereabouts, in turn

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