27 March 2012
25 March 2012
22 March 2012
18 March 2012
Uglier than thought, the new word, sticker
Cleaner plainer, free, sober its guilt.
Someone should be here with me it
Thinks I’m so beautiful. Flicks flicker.
Other chests, carved locked outings, seek
Definition. The word man draws no jewels,
Retrieves a cup for wind from a dark region
Of verandas. Said the same in Arabic
Not Hindi. Leave with me, the pretty chest
Heaved. I still smell sticky from the spiderweb
Of lecture pared down and bruised, split ends
Sometimes heap in clumps, oil strands, reading
Frays in cosmos as shields of what each meant,
A unified pool leaping. Each bound strip spent
Foam caked at a sanguineous hole or porous grill brick
Stick-stabbing or scrubbing, movements for two dancers
Lids gaping in fatigue and not in awe until touching
Returns them to a region of dark, only verandas.
05 March 2012
The weekend; with the purchase