Thursday, February 05, 2004

you’re not funny you know

from the sequence theseecstasies

those were there very words up-ended in a greenly ambitious sea I realise that one cannot “have” “one’s” “phallus” and eat it though—and this is the point one might not want to or might not know one wants to and who’s here to tell you so

no blemish and no rub just “there’s green” or “their red” never they’re blue/yellow/persimmon but endlessly endlessly and so on the totems are dancing into upward graced suspension into which and power drifts by just out of reach but kept well in hand curiously

or one may eat other things or not eat and really mean that flesh unfettered by skin which gives when prodded with the perspex but without the blunt rod not spring-back automatically going spink-spink in blue static so we are “boids” after all

and one day we just got tired I imagine of the massive fern fronds for life the big bugs which motor between them all got up by the perennial threat of ochre and olive spotted predation and walked right back into the goop form whence later to become dolphins or betrayed and tell the story of one man’s love of gingham

ahh yes it is vaulted and these deadened object sprung from flea markets suddenly mis-prized buy me a me and how could I could be duped in that !way of all ways! dandle above the space delineated by the bastard fracture or the arc this curve’s address to the fey angle

or could we I suppose with this talking baton all ways in each fist we could do anything but chose not to do any old thing laid out flat-like watch the jetstream caress the blackended gable though it is monday the satellite whispered to the star tell it not to

those funsters I love to love and you take me higher I swear it!! for this stalking gnaw of slight love-lorn self-pity one of this century’s great colonist’s mixing its conduits in the palette of the well let’s not paint me a picture you

or me let’s in fact cut that bit out skyscrapers/penises hmmm we could say so I need to get my bearings if it hadn’t been that the truncheon had rolled under the love-seat where elaine had been who-she? dramatically the clouds get rainy metamorphosed by the humid whose ache is a hotel where we check it out of it or

no and ahh
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