Panels of lost truck. How belonging lands in gossip – cult of
shrinking assertion. How we sit, with pets, in the triangulation garden. How there is no
meadow where deciduous debate prepares for fall. How life pushed thru until its given
frame bursts.
Impulse jumps ahead, incapable theatre fighting shy of each iris –
a blur open against corrective vision.
Foreclosing any loop of progress, demonstration hurries us to an
opinion. Her Portrait of Stalin sketched in stark lines. Each utterance part of the fabled body.
Ahead of the opulent flourish, above an obstinate body, she bites her tongue.
Each occasion assists the great. Proof of proper nouns. Action in
intervals, violence in the motion across. Impossible daemons spent in bishops.
It’s the same analogy to the same cause. Precincts liquefy in
thirds, your distance banked to my bank. It’s the conversation claim on a considerable church.
The undaunted portion is filth.
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