Interesting, Jow, a lot of sound in it. But too many drizzles, methinks, and
what is a 'shoulder slit'? I know what it rhymes with, a very celebrated
word hereabouts, but can't visualise the image.
A Chide's Alphabet
Painting Without Numbers
----- Original Message -----
From: "Jow Lindsay" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, April 10, 2003 1:17 AM
Subject: Albinia's Vague Sorrow (poem)
Arthur thinks (like Austin and Searle?)
there's something he could do, when he
holds her sobbing head, so that she'd
be an interesting little girl,
drizzle miss drizzle drizzle drizzle miss words like sip, lash, out, eye,
some set of attentions, like lava
slips, that he could hit on, that would
still supply his mouth with the good
things to say, but grant them favour
head dip songfully to my shoulder slit, Christ the back of your body is
mangled to shit
in his brain as well. all the right
things to say are dead: like clicking
on a screen, according to tight
procedures, & not lava-licking.
ticks and tolls birds on branch Goldilocks wigwam clip art, face's a muscle,
billows to a pancake flip
they are alive in his mouth, and
dead in his head. they are on fire
in whatever makes her cry,
and in his mind, crap and wet sand.
support line this is it this is its face lifting bitch stare at the prospect
of going to see someone about it
Arthur doesn't know what he means
about magma, but means something:
moss, landing lights, something shining?
reminds him of computer screens,
perhaps that's all it is.