flipping, facing in

November 13, 2013

Janus determined the coin turned in one hand. and one over the mouth.

the eyes of Jacks and the eyes of Mary. turning and turning and the like.

“it’s not the end of the world,” said mother father, “not yet and an unlucky never.” long fingers spinning whirlpools into the lake close to shore.

little girl being falls in and their little boy feelings spread like oil over the surface.

one and one

and more than both is never neither. ever nearer.

daddy witch catches them in her big big hands. long fingers spinning into circles the bodies that are more.

Janus turns the coin again over. his hands are small and the coin shines bigger than his large eyes even. two faces cry into each other and the coin has no sides but one when each face the other and spread legged pull hand to wrist to push their gaping wet holes together facing in. if there were a little drill to the skull they couldn’t know more than they do now, then they will know then- she and they- when more comes.

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tooth and nail

November 7, 2013

tooth and nail luxuirous migrane

an[y]other Day

October 25, 2013

Knows the Butcher

Take Time out of a day

follows tenuous prosaic etiquette

to get w/t[f]here

then another Day

(they didn’t know)

snaps

complete break

Forearm for Pork Loin

but it isn’t a trade…

Value falls of long estimation

Time taken and the Burden a faulty Ours

Bears mix here. There.

They wax.

wire frame

1 lens cracked under bare feet mashing the carpet at small hours double ridden home drunk

the other ok

pretty broke

i guess

he was and i

who’s your daddy now?

September 21, 2013

or, she will be fine

deadbolt deadbolt chain

hunting down the steel

forget these men

their ingenuity their

nothing to do

TV parts all over the floor

cathode diode little

rubber enema pump

***

blood in his eyes

the day the screen door flew open

shitting his pants

who’s your daddy now?

***

she’s fine

she’s alright

she’s fine

shorten her lead

wrapping your hand

a flavour slick along the ribbon

slacken your belt

you bet on her last round

root of filth

earth and water

your eyes crown

a head like a gator’s

scam the room

with your body submerged

teach a younger one the economy of words

mine time for conclusory social experiments

fis{t//\\h}ing stories

unrealized in bromance

things i want to say to you

he’s said them first

men i’d like to be for you

forget them

he’s generations

yr saying my name

“when’s it gonna be ok?”

“it already is”

and i says yrs

full down, the fountain

head given

deep scull fuck

too cheap and the humming bird motel

***

this is easy for you

you guys don’t talk about anything

hard up

forward

“when’s it gonna be ok?”

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Picket fence Oedipus

September 17, 2013

But what if all of it changed suddenly And you could still feel but the feelings all had new names and moved through your body without hiding in the corners. You are sure your brittle knees and creaking elbows and snapping shoulder blades have the dust of them still trapped. Husks disintegrating over three year periods. The time to get through it might have been a curse cast by one having no concept of his power, so a hunger for that which he yielded unwittingly in his frustration over its lack. Or was it that he was clawing at the earth a foot above his head all around in a hole he deepened clawing. Or was it that he knew it could happen and didn’t want it and in arrogance over owning and knowing took off after someone else’s Fate. Picket fence Oedipus, running from and fucking his mother. Anyway, you’ve defriended him.

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Hymen lapse and Lapping sea

September 16, 2013

Driven from the castle (thrown out the window), Queens become ducks and circle the moat. Beck of the child King. Bread crumbs once a day on hot days. Swelling hot crumbs on the glistening surface of a pond, too. Man has made and maiden will peddle push a paddle boat out to the middle. Just a buoy, pregnant plastic place holder until the bravest little swimmers pass the ropes kicking. The ropes scratching gently their freed ankles. Dead weed bobble head sea monstress. Death and dying. Breath and breathing. Breed swell to quell the loneliness.

The association is maddening. Yr a pretty girl. Such a pretty girl. So handsome yr brother the picture on his license looks like a cis manchild of fifteen.

He takes it boating and forgets the lesbian shore. Witches have him tethered, just in case. Forgetting is part of the ritual. He will swim back all on his own so the tether wears, seaborne. The theory goes. No need to drag. Salt to the nylon eating thread by thread. Baptist by name and still calling it it. Are we sure, sisters? Are we true? Place a scrap of fur there, on his dick. Lay it there like a scrap on one of Oppenheim’s wooden fingers. Thus robed, he will remember once the forgetting is done. Glue it to his dick. Crazy glue is good for this. Nail it to a board. The whole thing. Dick to the board. Flanagan risen. Opie sunk in.

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snakemouth

September 10, 2013

sucking

snakemouth [makes] the mistakes feel good.

folded over and can hold the weight of

in a pile on their shoulder.

dough in rough hands

invisible baker.

the man above we don’t believe

in.

laughter and laugher

swelling and constant

breath hard and harder into my face.

the hole through your lips

gap stayed

boat tongue that takes

down their throat

pennies for the eyes

drunk and paying the driver

saved and the survivor

skyman gone

mother there

wing.

prayer.

mine to

take take take

smokebreak

period

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jeprendsdesvacances.jpg

September 10, 2013

The Twosome Discordant

August 21, 2013

It took him a long time to die. Well, relative to the rest. I found him floating face down, limbs limply swaying below the surface. He was an arch suspended at the neck, where his body split into a quarrelling twosome. The head was desperate for fairytale and moral and awakening all of Humanity through the ages with a cold, dead stare the unlikely harbinger for Life Itself. I know this because I swam up and checked. Eyes crystal and open. Little bubbles still clinging to the corners and lashes. His hair was net and lodgings. Warm brown and soft, soft to die for. This is where Humanity and Life Itself might have lain and lodged. A ragged warmth like Earth and Fire. Floating in the weary Water. I am tired of holding your hair, said the Water.

His body was no longer ours. Not his. It was The. The Body was pulling the whole thing downwards. The Earth Down There is not the Real Earth. Humanity cannot trust it and does not want down. Life Itself grips the surface like a shard of last hope glass. Maybe there was some blood, too. 

I wanted to put the whole thing back together again. The twosome was more than I remembered him being. Limp Life Less and Life Itself. I let out my breath and it swarmed his underWater face. I swirled my limbs in such a way and curled my spine in such a way so as to end up right underneath and just below. From here I wrapped my body around The Body and kissed his drowned mouth. I pushed with all I carried there and we made full circles at the surface like one dolphin or one synchronized swimmer. The two of us one. The Twosome Discordant forced to suck it up and eat its own tale and leave it alone. 

We went on like that for many hours and I realized timing was everything and it took him a long time to die. Well, relative to The Rest. He had been napping only twenty minutes. It took him twenty hours. 14,400 rotations like a synchronized dolphin without breathing. Adds up to nine. To die. Three die.

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June 24, 2013

daddy made me throw away the mold. he made me throw the mold away. i had hidden it underneath the bed. a place he’d never ever go. secrets he’d never ever know. i was building my own self. my dolly. my dolly, myself. i was to teach her. to walk, to talk. like me. and when she was ready, he would believe she was me and i could go on growing out of myself while she stayed me. forever.

but one day daddy saw. he saw me crawling out from under the bedskirt.

he shook me shook me shook me

and my teeth chattered like my teeth

and my bones rattled like my bones

and my curls bounced like my curls

“I’m sorry,” I said. and wrapped arms

just like mine around his neck.

in a voice just like

my own.

and I dragged the mold out from under my

bed, and cracked it in two across my knee.

the mold from which I had hatched

and he will never know.

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