Saturday, 10 July 2010

no O

the bare arms variegate
pin of sun/balloon fountain
swaying instinctual
lineage of disappeared

hot old animals,craved
headlamp.her spine a theatre
some ½ nights spin in
a phial her tongues

aglow.& no
true words ever gone
this heart.the grass is dry
,white,& afraid.


The only experience.
Wake up dead.
Outside maybe streets or the sea or a hospital ward or fish swimming
through the trees.

The vocal dumb.

I left myself somewhere.
"I left myself somewhere."

The thin world.
The fat sky,
The thin sky.
The noworld world.

Forgotten address.


  1. . . . those words . . .those images . . . stick and then move . . . they keep following me around this dusty Ottoman town . . . a haunting . . . creepy in the best sense!!! yes keep creeping me . . . i like the creeps . . . top of the head off angie dickinson and all . . .

  2. Thanks :-). Very pleased I could augment the atmosphere! (I vaguely had Arles in mind, which is also very dusty & very haunting) ...

    Angie Dickinson ... sigh.