Sadly

By | 1 May 2012

Ability is not the end cause and justly–
not even the original thing can foreclose the horselock
I don’t want to tell you I want to say you
come here to the main city where all the intense emotions
sleeping in the outback incommunicado.
I can’t keep not looking at you (I never was)
I can’t keep up anything I never started.
I left the house and made it close. I decided against
excision. A scalpel slices my leg all those years ago (1).
Where is Sydney even ever when you need it? Not t(here)
I don’t think. There is a prefix of verbal destruction that
can be applied to any word. Watch the summer monstrous.
Watch my flower while I walk. Where is the sun in relation.
Where is the unrelated. Every orbit is too close over there.
Watch your head when you kowtow please. Who needs a car
when a car can be broken? This is a place about poem. Arms space.
Race race. All of the dayglo foodstuffs are too strong. Open
out a lily and gild all my flowering embarrassments.
Back when the bible was still the newspaper things were heavy
you could swim all the way, dude, no shit. You’re wearing me down
and weaning me off. Take only the best. Always be trigger-happy.
Give me enough pages and I will write for you every self-help book.
All the houses are seriously full. All the houses are full, srsly. All the
homegrown foodstuffs are selfmade geniuses. Automatic Dialect.
All the people are good and bad and evensided. Howevermore.
Insofaras. In the near snowlight. The cutest herbivores.

This entry was posted in 49: SYDNEY and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work: