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IQ or A POETICS (part one)

half of your intelligence is from congress
with other people

thus, without contact, last time
around in Poland

my intelligence
hibernated

or I lost
my vocabulary

which amounts
to the same thing

this time I talk
talk talk &
talk

if only
to myself

love songs
are the same
and they
keep pushing
my buttons
especially during
sleep


I dream
non-stop because
I set my alarm
at odd intervals

I want to live
with pedestrian
poetics
and sing woozy
on my feet
fumbling
around for my keys

wear my organs
on the outside

all our feet
make the big
city , the new city,
the only city
after this one
gets sacked and re-
sacked by the visa-
goths or some
other discontent

what I do
at my desk
is what I want
to do on my bed

it's about getting
comfortable
with your self
or selves
that shifting
flicker

we're gonna go
gooey
so better
not confuse
existence
with life

Comments

anna said…
i like it.what do you do at your desk? and than in you bed? hehe.
postpran said…
thanks Anna . . . blue skies here . . . at least something good :-)

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Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
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