by David Wolach
(for Frank Sherlock)
Delusionstalker–Eyes: in you
end up the rest of the gazes
end up the rest of the gazes
A marginalia
Dear,
Detroit
I was born inside Herman Keefer
US census says
You are eleven people
You are well envoweled
I dream
Of a hotel bed
The Sub-lime,
I can smell you
On the pillow
Put it on the tab
Goes the voiceover
Shot with a green
Screen monitor
O constantly updating
Painting: the sea’s
Jagged swells
Are inside me
Causation's manifest reads South
Beeps in matrices in sub-prime
Code every measure
One future's reminder
FREE MEALS SIX NIGHT
STAYS CUSTODIAL CHARM
Installment is investment
So keep this secret:
We lost a lightbulb in your
Chest, the war's not ended
And if love is an act of sub
Mission, bedsores are your deductible
"I read sutures like
Palms"
If you think about services rendered
We're the hottest resort in town.
How Reagan it is to pick up
Your Isophone, listen for
Salubrious voice, same getme hot
Servile sweet
"The individuated you question—again"
The multitudes droned yesterdays and
My mother gave birth there
Several times
To hear
If you were downstairs
"Am I just a job?
Do you have a family
Or a blow
Job,
Syncope
For the ballast me?"
We were born
Of numbers
We
Retrieve our numbers
In your name
In a carboat in the sky-past
автомобиль лодки (судна)
We were Vladmir,
Language a yet to be
Decided question.
The structure is alive
And far away
Not celestial,
Sublunar
"Do you ever dream
Of chlorine
Or wheezing air machine
Knobs for up and down
Coiled cord
What I look like?"
They keep records in the basement
Our mothers and addicts
In the basement
The rest of the book is too cold to heat
--Kindling--
I dream of pyres in your
Selfsame rooms
Why do I keep
Telling you this
And my case number,
Files the size of poverty
As if among nomads
I can make a fond
Roomservice you
With a reduction I keep
Coming back to
On the turnpike
Can you hear
Cars out the window
posted by poet CAConrad @ 10:17 PM
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