Marcus Slease |
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19:38 doBRA, tufted & torn, the will to exist as a man impassioned continues unabated, what I got from one country to another? mysteries and smiles, the odd man out, a week of no work and I’m off to live in Zory with a 50 yr old Polish woman, dream doll still on my mind, skin pinned together, an unknown son and an un- known god rumbling in my stomach, clumsily creating, my chicken was undercooked and now I got gas, want to ride the bride, florid funeral, the sound of a mirror filmed backwards, vaults of floating cows, the word is a made place but I’m in Katowice, naked streets full of sausages & loud bells, exalted fox, awakened degree zero, a queer way of talking, real beats for the Post-Communist thaw, creaky old trams, someone spray-painted RESIDENT EVIL BIO HAZARD in the subway, suck the thick seas, chilly nothingness in the heart of the cosmos * 17:18 ornamented & defined by never enuf, can’t touch IT or smell IT or see IT, dead fly under the kitchen table, big bulbus ass buzzing, IT’s about time & my legs are long Karateboy, burst turtle, there are no fields or oceans in Katowice, pale buildings, colorless city, grayed out, accursed, barefoot, what am I made of? Underwater one cannot tell what reason is, oxygen indeed, blind contradictions, impulse to touch, carving a wax heaven & pickling skeletons ** 10:34 waking up armed and tangled, lamp- posts and composts outside the window, your sounds raised my flag, nightcoughs and hiccups, fish it up, a laughing bandit with square flowers, stubby fingers in the air duct and not enough sleeping pills, hope u’ll come too, aided by exquisite cheese and wet tomatoes, black beer floats in the sky, I’m a runaway frog still sweating the lillypad, torso of iron & a hankering for junge Menschen, there’s turbulence in the slippery line, contact high, tell me what you find, can you read my mind, let me show you the ghost in the boat, spell IT and sell IT, SASS & pumps, the writing lies, behind the rim of the clockface is a piece of dry celery, cleric overload, damp mischief, the curve of the letter U, time doesn’t pass, mouth of mud, pawned by endless hallucinations of paradise, saint retreat, my nameless reversal complete *** 14:00 The present is a prologue of excessive and morbid discharges. The snow melted the moment it hit the road. I spent the night turning over the moments. Each wave is a blot on the human heart. Crinkles increase round the eyes. Generations tread the differences. Providence scatters in the key-tap. Enraptured cobwebs on my pillow. Snared in the emptiness. IT will not be sublimated away. All pain is subsumed IN the moment. A mutli-tracked railroad baptized by fire. A broken heater hisses my shame. My name is belly to hot belly. An appetite for calamity. Bats of the past. Box of wedding pictures. The mighty bull whom we love is full of black blood. **** 08:58 rusting future wooden shack silent pines & arrangements in the doghairs |
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