Monday, December 07, 2009

language acquisition device

she's never kissed me in any way that made sense
she turned her head slightly
looked out at the starlings in the rain
turned back like this
avidly read about starlets
from the newspaper
that was scattered on the floor like huge wet leaves flopped there
in a fucking flop crisis

in the night, though, starlings she looked
owls she looked also
many seafaring midnights of birds she looked
catafalques and stoops as though of doom yea she looked

me all so passionate but had to entwined look
so I too
yeah there they were, both of them dying
in front of the gas fire
hey hey what's going on he wakes now thinking like a hen on fire
don't be ridiculous

why you sit in trees with starling rain rain idiot
night of the stretches the trenches the facial
twigs tendrils cobwebs mycelia of the dream nothing
Buddha god moonlight of limbs what you want to take me
there where the moon bounces
no yet again I am not invited
to my own funeral

baltic sea 1955 wtf cold as angels mmm...


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