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very rough . . .


bit my tongue
on some thinned-out
Polish bread
and it’s a bloodlump
the invertebrate
of the tongue

when with contempt the exposure of dust in the daylight: a fertile stasis above
the hills of a shelled-out city: the liver deposits
unconscious memory: from blood
simple that wish in the water: to think
it’s true asleep among the shadows: hieroglyphic indifference
with the little nibs
of forethought: time is the event: memory is a monkey
in shattered glass else a cool shoeshine: squeeze out
heat from a pile of salted bodies
ready for the fire: sharpen yr knaves: there’s a silent menace
in the carnivorous loaves:

the bones are baked with leaves: the body is being read: red being
pumped out and taken in: what is the destination
of vibration on water: chilled out
terror of acceptance: it’s not a simple jive
among the metaphors


William Keckler said…
I like this.

"time is the event: memory is a monkey"

that's rather Terry Gilliam, innit?

postpran said…
ha ha. yeah. didn't make that connection. right. good 'ole Terry!!!


also enjoying your blog William. Part of my daily surfing!!!

hugs from cold cold Poland :-)
postpran said…
oh I sometimes I do indeed wish I were Bruce!!! But I don't seem to have the right shape of head for baldness.

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