Friday, September 3, 2010

Anaesthesia Litter

How the horns for a worm
Gurgle tonic beyond the table
For ash ..
Latex nerves I burn..burn
So immense wombs buffoons all balloons
Loss of ice..stomached under my theatre balls
Rust I am
Reeds I blow..kill the clothes
Anodes she passes through the ugly autumn..
Ruffles papers..worming of secretion to dial a railroad disguise
Loss of feet I paddle paddle down underneath
Kill her blood
Kill her frills
She’s on bones of submarine hues

1 comment:

  1. You have some really different, interesting work on here. Please keep in touch about what you are working on.
    Maybe you will submit to Crow Poetry, or one of the zines sometime!