Dianne Cikusa



Do not place anything on top of your lover

The light flickers, And Derrida's graffiti asks: when our eyes touch, is it night or is it day? Our tongues are now maple syrup the colour of god's hair or something I give him marks at least for genuine attention. …

Posted in 30.1: MADE | Tagged

We did a few drawings

Can you remember our guest in this empty house? the room humid with cooking cotton, Its illusions are fully furnished, since the windows filled with milk blast of glass waste banking up for airless weeks. The money spider crosses a …

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Hypochondriac

historian: this body of work to be studied Or it can be something else entirely. As the key sticks I can't write, the story i'm lacking a train route and just filling out the questionnaire / in the yoga class, …

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Moving Statue

successful poetry began with the Star of David his caricature stood in the middle of a fountainhead, darting between shadows and flickers of saints, stitching sinners into dishonest possessions Patches of light would perambulate the fringes of stealth and supposition …

Posted in 30.0: CUSTOM | Tagged

Caracol (Snail)

menacing Persons, left behind the shadow of their passive insensitivity [crushed housing] Regards, city-siders we accept your delirious ovation, and neatly recite      leatherbound policy on behalf of those greased morsels who never owned a voice to publicise the anguish of …

Posted in 26.0: INNOCENCE | Tagged