I don't want to open my eyes. There's a soft cinema playing on the
screen of my own darkness. Tall men, short women. I can smell them as
they dance past, just enough movement and motion to ruffle hair and let
skin taste presence. Always just enough, an adequacy of absence.
“I'm full.”
“You
casting
casting
reel it in
worm's gone
unwrap another one
from the damp newspaper
lying
[i'm always lying
down
between my teeth]
on the pebbles
[on knives
on my life
walking
swearing]
flat worm
soft ridges
hook through soft body
it continues to wriggle
half dead is not dead
can't see out of the
i'd never heard of her
now i'm going to read her backwards
i'm sorry for everyone that's sorry.
phanero wrote:
This was the last piece kari posted to Clifford Duffy's blog Taking
the Brim.
kari's own blog, or one of them was http://transdada.blogspot.com/
death is the raga of this place,
urinal cakes
baby sister
and
janet's little corner of hell
guess what?
(mustangs)
the cat ran away
dedicating
weirdness.
home on the strange
proverbs
must be crazy
smugly superior
stolen dogs in Memphis
is it an excuse?
facebook
your muse
You're empty,
This is empty,
The candle's burned right down
And all I wanted
Was a clean sheet of paper.
All I wanted
Was for you to say
“I love you”.
“Why do you need to hear it woman?”
Because ...
Because I can't believe it,
Unless it's out there,
Squaring up to reality,
Biting it's thumb.
“At
