late-morning dedication to Charles Bukowski



looking at the torn shoes as recommended

the shallow ends of nights/days coming untrue through this cut up imaginary wire of self-indicted woe


the day is yellow and the feeling submarine

though no sea in view what-so-ever

what so ever fabulous %

thank you for the discussion on Achillea hill

i so mourn and dread and love the morning

this Sunday morning getting colder and older by the second

i wish i could be first but not really /

sense the sensors beating through the head and chest and bare vigour

– beating all around some reticular bush

you are someone eye trust and lips yearn for you

the immaculate vacancy of times future and times fast
you: the spectacular pursuit of misfit Andalousian screams and barks and black and white rainbows

(hey, wouldn’t you love to see one, see the rainbow in its visceral/ utterly externalized shape just black just white
shaping the sky the window the flesh and whatever is never there to begin with) –

shift yourself in dubious recalls and picture the beer-and-the-bear resort under the couch you are so comfortably sitting on during these blessed hours of forgetting who is who and what is what all language becoming alguage

the bottoms of the sea and the bottoms of the but: redefining syntaxe and linkage and terror out to an exquisite view from the scream window the relentless tick:

browsing through other people’s dirty clothes and right-bitrate clean mp3s

how does it end

through a link a hole or a vulgar motortight crash


So, we are looking at those shoes.

Those laces. That tie us to movements and rests:

so earthbound so earthly and yet so, sometimes, uneasy to dream with/

looking at those shoes getting slippery and dry and cold/

looking at those feet gloves that help us around/

JUST looking at them, from the imminent position of the sitting BEholder

who owns beauty and horror and lust

lust like stone and heart like water – – –
watery stones that swallow the lungs

figurine laces that lace the lacing of what could be already gone

already retrieved and already worn

but is a Vampire instead.

the Vampyrian fate of this toe-woe, woe-toe —

massage is in order

message is spleen

and waiting is ordeal of the nth degree






then again

so what

if the splendour is rented or FOR RENT

please make the difference explicit or you are looking at life imprison

life imprison

the new set of daily care

the daily cat to clasp and purr

the day’s puressence
the day’s putrescence

don’t say NO

cause it is just a N and a O


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