long and good a night

it is lovely

this list

i made  of suggestions

 

if what we could do

tonight meant forgetting

the work for hours

passed and to come

it is moving

to hear you

make noises

like chewing from

thoughts gone unexchanged

 

it is frightening

to think what

is happening to women’s

bodies that are not

visible

 

it is hopeful to

and it is foolish too

to want

 

to read to each other aloud

and admire cheekbones on

a screen: bone vibes

lusting tendrils

 

to want a moment where

we silently remove

uncertainties with  a

gentle tweezing motion.

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yet not

bough, breathe , a box, not just yet, but now and then more,  a meeting of old and new skins, a silent eyes, clear casing to offer, we protect with our skins, with not-breathing,  there are stitches nearby, there are buttons operated, an authority in copper, painless is  laughter, we return soon to fold and fold and fold and to turn loving gazes towards machines, the rough between hands and automated across tiles

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Malabar

balmy now on a denim rug where no ordinary ones

are seated splayed their tufts on skin and clocked

fingers while our larynx spread on tabletops and

no purposeless crawl of the grass seeping slowly through

the pores on us and through what these places

grow and inside

 

{}{}{}

 

telephone call where each a voice swallows the stars

imploding on a lens where only we are a voice and

hunted and venomous snakes

 

{}{}{}

 

where the friends we love sit in the easterly corner and

the rest we preserve are bottled in brine simmering

under the large stars their eyeballs bulge with lust

 

{}{}{}

 

we ask ourselves where are the bubbles why does

there always end in bubbles

or tears

 

{}{}{}

 

my lips are salsa tinged and salty

 

{}{}{}

 

where the scents close our eyes only as spanners

cross us along a ceiling where my marbletop bruised

toes speak in slumber

there is a hypnotherapy session booked in weeks

 

{}{}{}

 

‘shame file’  for her daughter

 

{}{}{}

 

a hat is not a hat

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a repost and the person who helped me hide the fact

termination a’gree’ments, slaveless historians, a drum organ, literature for white radicals, literature for black radicals, ravitz rule, mock kitten soup neck, steel rod, soft shoe sole, bendy, round caketins, plant stops, no ref free, treasury stamping plant, swinga, hock, burning burning, teen beds, comfort plants, raging plants, stoppers, removing degrees of oppression for all oppression, teen girls, pipe organs, roaches, ‘free’, molecules, petard, polis abz neutral, orchid piss, refund, teen girl selfies, waterproof mascara [foolproof mascara], 65, 71, 68, gold pan pinch, gold hoops, midway downtown, bridge

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hpeg

with all spells i am watching

and it is static lean towards a

skyscraper where are dried leaves

stored we too could have choppedfringes

be on water spread out red curtains:::::::

i needle this unnecessary for the conjuring

all foreign words what then i say ‘you’ [x20]

there is none like that a past can fold seven

times only we can only bend it until drums :::::::

ask me again or again chewing the fountain pens

and then this realisation all is only spat or broken bones

or heretics of ‘false’ ‘revolutions’ and these allergies

reappear cyclically where can we be soft again

or charming where are creaks are songs

 

 

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its vengeful defeat
a moment in
        hallucinations
     machine
        horror
comets’ hideous

metaphors
     predict
cosmic stars

universe universe universe

in their hell servants
official cell
repetition      gravity

classic my signs
wars no longer
yours returns

some policy

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the paste a tact

only this one maps for spliced of the prints see

to all bears to reach into chimes of the nights

next week see to what we are now calling

historicising of emoji-flares shot to the skies shot

through my heart my heart is the squares of

collected ice shines on the tusks we perform

marionettes swinging wildly through enactments

of mesopotamian once the signed bedsheets

cast off there this stoned house lies among sparkling

the city where the drinks cards are denied

to ballet flats or cardigans we often smell could

iguanas leaving the alley way trailing behind bottles

where bottles stay intact for always be leading ways

to a world away that sits above a hundred and

fifty staircases lined with ceramo///paleo skins sponsored

by shades of deco where the top seller is

something like shatter me or pirates come copulate or

distress signals and here there is much loam

with sky scraps drifting to land on follicles so quietly

while when it is boiled i pinch my thumb and

forefinger and the skin slips off ready for the mushed

congealed heady sauce for the unarmed civilians

twitch a flung flag shrapnel garment into the camps

of enemy officers who then are not holding timpani

tightly but discarded the waistbands idle noisily and i

braid it all i braid it to the death where in fitful

lashes of beads we then seep the sunflower juice through

scars permed through platitudes concealed

forever in oak boxes

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potential blockages

cannot sometimes escape this fact of this place cannot

ever we sometimes escape in a reduction idea of the flattening

where hopefully this is me speaking spit into walls what walls

spit back what rooms exhale with our exasperation while increasing

it to no end  and this is a subject-sponge in the empire of closed

\council smokes pipes laced with honey and we the buckets only

draining from autotoxins for whichever movie-heist we are next

to enact to gather up fractions of skin as we can then spirit in to

pods where our bodies no longer or longer more are treacherous

and all outside the towers are only now superficially crumbling

and there these long pauses                scarved out of speakers

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hooks

On my dawn knuckles the dust from impacts the plenum where  sits through textual faults of the machineries . . . there is no day where we are all no way for oomph sutures of incarcerated resin hounds of nightfall . . . for couple extra of bucks you get to keep the hairs plucked behind my genu my genu always in distant memories but for summer and what is the correct way to describe eyes is the way to avoid all persuasion and systematically embers crush us they crush my cranium they sex you up but not me    oh gooooooood my box of thumbtacks face down thieved away with travelling troupe of largely swole men    who tell me the mark wahlberg in my dream is the mark wahlberg from real life and i can puncture his arms with my box of thumbtacks used with index fingers or ring fingers or pinkies.

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sudor

intent, none

we are so

the dead for

glowing boatlamps

 

intent, unhorsed

skies throw down

the fists of forgotten

threnodic islands

 

where hellions banished

years of suppuration

clot roads unwalked

unheard we bellow    still

my nerves

 

soon all earwax

in teaspoons doled

 

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