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Saturday, April 14, 2018

Figure 12

 You have come far away. You have come furrow from retrograde to retrograde.  Fermentation its own form of reproduction working with a mother night in the scandalous abundance of drawing up the trash. Take out you & another I is the matter. There are folds & folds & in their unseen an alien warmth & thus a nocturnal wandering. A fuzz of breath hovering. In the dark between faces & failure I feel a ruffle—blood-stiff & heaving it clings it is sticky ruby clots it is moulting it is snowing in my heart in my heart opal dolphins are vomiting P.S.s in my heart it is fucked in my mouth perpetually being stuffed with fluff & deathmeat I cough up hatchlings. They come out sopping. They come out super 8. They thank you everyone for coming out tonight. My sap, my pusses. My cheeks burn in the archive, I have inconveniently made a mess, and the city too is spreading

2 comments:

bloof said...

Your cheeks are *exploding* my archive, dear Ewok
What a brilliant April we're having around here
I'm not a robot

Radish King said...

Breathless.

My poetry month is crushing on your poetry month.
Rebecca