Tuesday, January 20, 2009

The Commons 2 // 17

hello, o burnt frequency
where my eyes were
without a city wall
I have been designing
a new geography of delight
clean & troubled, like
a baby's cry -
flap your knees apart
my insipid drunks, my
shuffling laws, inside
the jerking melting bellies
of detectives & diagrams
such irritating spheres
get up now, dead man

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