mort mot juste

março 14, 2009

oracle in shreds

all my life i have walked looking down at the sidewalk, at the street, at the hardwood floor in the old house. i look down so i can find shreds of memories and pick them up, put them in my pockets and glue them onto blank paper afterwards. i also pin them to the walls but mostly i think i write them down, on my body in ink that lasts forever. when i am gone, these particles of days will be gone as well. i am in all my extension just an excuse for documenting small symbols, i mean i am made of ashen, fragile canvas.
i am a song written for the unclean lips of a priestess on some black and white photograph wearing a bathing suit and a hat in a shrine of rocks and sand. i am a faint shriek of bliss soaked with a storm of stolen fingers touching razorblades of sin. microscopic, imperceptible razorblades.

maria 6:20 PM 3 vociferando estavam

março 09, 2009

caterpillar emergency

your heart at 60 bpm
shoot yourself
i opened my eyes countless times
and i had every reason
to get to the page 100
and rip it and scream it:
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
now at 120 bpm and increasing
i'm here
dead cattle only ghost
i warn you i warn everyone
about destiny and 
portuguese guitars on drunken piers
where forever i've lingered
is no place to be
there be no sound in my eiderdown
i'm at every word's root
stepping on broken shells
most certainly waiting
the next one shall have his fate
and his pine
in lisbon i'll bait him and draw out his heart
in algarve i'll spread him all over the shore
in port i'll ship him to hell where he's due
god and the devil assured i've paid mine
in one breath i blow the ocean dry
breathe in the water and spit ancient sherry
red flaming as drowning suns
devouring age
and bits of space

maria 3:22 PM 3 vociferando estavam

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