Poem
At the frayed edge of the blanket
at the redness of mars
below Orion's belt a brake light flickered
as last week's temporary rent nature
a bottle of peat whisky eighty light
their significance between I and the cold night sky in the gap left
between what it might have meant the way things finally turned
a tension I could do without
I, lay with my toes choosing neither
left nor right the traffic shifts
It has a plan his
forearm independently of the sleeve
fragments leading up his cuff
or off into the veins and capillaries the way the heart is
a stopping off point
pull into a node in the root system and park up
the hairs magnified to a million times their size
between the sea of light and its illuminations
the syntheses unfold one wave after another
it's time as I imagined all along
spread against the canvas
searching for pure native species
worming their way through the compacted earth
>From tree to tumbling
water roars underground
a life without
fading into shadow like beneath the chair
in trying to piece together
a stain in the rug
underarm inflation
tufts to the square inch
its so unjust whether boom or
bust the imaginary label a
collar and tie might choose
petrol gushes
a few sizes too big
hugging things both inside and outside
heaving chest
twice its size
out of (shape)
in (condition)
Jesus H Christ
To the south and east a strait
drifting away
down the inner thigh
fading voice winding the back end
what the customer don't see
blood spots on the egg
and eruptions of boils
in oriental packaging
a present from
without precision
tent fall
blood domed cross
from aerial' perspective flail
pulling out a square as if elastic
pouring in and filling it
butterfly or moth its polycarbonate antennae
behind the scenes
Being sick heart jumping politically
cleansed the star factor on her forehead
mass attack hovering an inch or two away
the front of her face persona the
parasite eating away at her worm
between the fingers cushion
anti cigarette fat
sipping away at the end of a spectacle
drawing in the eidos denying the
moon hanging in the sky no
cigarette between me no big
deal my face staring back at me
moon hanging in the sky
at the back of the brain
the transparent front end
Interference between the wave forms the
slits appended as he experienced
the dribs and drabs stuffing the culture
and what is it this staring into one another's face
we lose ourselves
what the locals have to say
no
way no where
February 2000
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I.Davison [log in to unmask]
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