Punctually
on Saturday night
Jon Corelis arrives
This time with a lyrical five paced composition
kafkian surreal open and deserted-vast
pain/displacement isolation/disgust trepidation urgency[please stop his
overwhelming sorrow/am i guilty] pleasure/freedom
when words strike sensitive chords
act has to be given to the forger
who uses the used sees through
to invent
anew
anny
----- Original Message -----
From: "Jon Corelis" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, June 07, 2003 8:42 PM
Subject: A day
> A day
>
>
> i
>
> The severed head on my desk
> is weeping.
> It will rain.
>
>
> ii
>
> When no one was looking, I hit the wall with my fist.
> The radii of cracked plaster turned into a spider
> which tongued its silken spittle over my body
> from head to toe and hung me from the ceiling.
> People who wanted to pass had to swing me out of the way,
> with small cries of irritation.
>
>
> iii
>
> She went down the hall past my door and turned the corner.
> What will happen to her there?
>
>
> iv
>
> Someone mentioned a man who committed suicide
> by attaching the end of his necktie to the hand of a large clock.
>
>
> v
>
> Your breath is the unfading earliest scent of April.
> Your eyes are the smoke of a prairie fire on the horizon.
> Your flesh is the purer tone that rises from silence like cream from milk.
>
>
>
> ==================================================
>
> Jon Corelis [log in to unmask]
> http://www.geocities.com/joncpoetics
>
> ==================================================
>
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