Friday, December 7, 2007

Sibilance and Sustenance

Pressing plastic grips against my fingertips, I watch
my right hand twitch as thoughts and lines and
words and signs, like shrapnel, scatter through my skull
until this pulpy flesh is covered black and blue. I
twist the plosives, fuck the adjectives, and maim
the nouns until they come alive:

and then I have a beer.

May '07

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