hanging my happiness on a boiled egg,
i stretch my trunk skyward, and ask you
the difference between a glass ceiling and a skylight.
from here, i can see all of the foodstuffs raining, the king
prawns, all the regalia, actually. britannia is editing
the wikipedia entry about shipping lanes… i called you my spice
island and you turned to jelly. (finite desk)
i am hungry thru the
(y)ears; gran-fed, i hacked my arm up and hocked the remains
for a new beagle.
let me come down and tell you how
i don’t think of you over here, or how this continence
makes the heart grow more absent. ———you know I never even
know what time it was? how nervous, no?
but I was watching the window always. [well,
who could tell, you had covered the house with those
realist portraits of our surrounding landscape, and mounted them
in window frames.] i would boil the cornflakes until they were
just done, and then scatter them around the plant bases//
//that was when we started filming. i liked to pretend to press
the record button, and think of how embarrassed i would be
to see the shelves: i could bear no relation: i was such a bore:
the wood started to deteriorate: that was when the ceiling came
down, and i was all pomp-and-ceremonei: with my belt on for
reasons of fashion: modalising, i said: modulating, changing
fora faster than you could tie a knot.
NOUVELLE VAGUE (put a string on it)
1 June 2013