Suddenly, midnight grows fins, the music I use to clean the temple. Intuitions of electricty in a book of discarded photographs, leonine grammars revealed sentence by sentence, drinking the oppressed. Delirium my feet, beyond murder, large slabs of quartz are dreams for each eye, bicycles shackled to the tongue. Even my profile erodes, swaying so that a prison may be lost to orbit, just as ambivalence is a new vagina, carefree. No awakening world of sifting through skulls, the photon thrill, agony vacationing ice with the waiting starship.
4 comments:
Here's to the new ambivalent vagina. Powerful work, Rob.
borp!
mr.
finally i have my skin under your floor
why you step and bounce back,
because you wassy borp!
There is no mistaking your delicious, visceral writing anywhere, Rob! Is this what it is to look into the abyss through pinhole?
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