Aught, no. 11/12 (2003)
D. J. Huppatz
polish. polish. polish. wind. not a window an ex.
liquid wax drip frozen on.
polish silver & polish salami.
wound. a window
wind. not a window
it after all. a tangy aftertaste.
not the but ice flows. in amongst crevices
all along the seam.
in. to. nation.
in self that splits
dissolving & slurring blurry
& we is released.
The Song of Sneezes
gardens in one-way streets, this is the song of sneezes. steps from
liquid stone, moulded in this case, though there will always be spillage.
pails of linen in the next evening, are they folds? uncontrollable urges
find themselves in cars ...
it's a race he's trying to get there first ... [straight to attention] i
can't let them get past ... he rustles concentration & with alpine
suppleness of liana & shingly beach slips forward but the onrush will warm
him hasten his blind dash, his car past gives the streets their character
it's a track ...
can't in the dark so tries writing an alterative circulation.
he takes its toll. the bridge above, what happens here? a troll,
excitations unbound, circles the island of ibis. seashell pink fencing
stops short of the neighbour's gate. i have a confession to make: LIFE'S
SOFTER WITH FLUFFY.
add shadows, at last they're manufacturing multicoloured joy. writing
the vibrant line among long leaves, concrete poured not set is wet. chalky
blue clouds on pastel sky - does that sound realistic? stammering land of
landscaped gardens how weak i am, dragging with stars to death.
Copyright © 2003, by the author.
All rights reserved.
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