Cris Tina
03-12-2002, 02:10 AM
Boats
I.
something secure in the realization of a point of an arrow-
sharp neon symbol directing a walk on along a span of steps
shaping his path and it is not living in the sense of the word
where he hears it speak and retorts to the buzzing
II.
brought by a field study measuring the turgid falls cleansing him
and sanctioning off partial quarters to annotate each life blessed
in the square of the grid of the larger square that is counted
III.
in its entirety they intermingle with bright stabs of prismatic light
all giving a fabric, coexisting, spilling over our bent plane
IV.
to observe the tranquil immersion in sky
pointed to nothing
the experimenter watches, guided, demur,
spherically still (winged Victories
with bearded goat at foot,) she
transfers the light, gathers primal fabrics
to black art, poised at rudiment with
dogs barking at their stone throats.
within brushwood, fierce eyes, starched
and diminished ruff, her face painted
as chalk in line she pours resonant
and enfeebled to the sea
insofar as the pauper's
nerves pervade,
acquiring obscurity (to the latter example,)
argued to delineate madness founded
in unrelieved obliteration just paces
to the west. blood of rats seeps into
heavy tiles, hands itself down the
drain, lends to dank
bath floors while she abstains
wrapped in golden red
history of un libro mopping
,,ea exigency to its
previous surface
and she sees, accords
one translation of faithful, arrant,
<<in this arcane existence, if it pleases
you, gradi!>>
garrisoned in and i see amarillo sol, delante de
razón (yellow sun, open to reason)
memories spill quickly, spill over (lanzadera:
la taza se ejecuta concluído) one as i squinted
my eyes-and the two men down in silence,
others shuffled off. quieted.
i watch myself, see that my eyes line forward.
i don't look at the floor. make the line forward
line forward
juan carlos won't let up on the horn. moving
forward a man in a suit (lino) grips steadfastly,
reasonably. juan raises his voice
i see an angel (carlos,) his image arcaico-
imposición, (man in flaxen.) he is brisk in
greetings. his face is drawn,
it is drawn.
i breathe in, expire, and breathe in.
I.
something secure in the realization of a point of an arrow-
sharp neon symbol directing a walk on along a span of steps
shaping his path and it is not living in the sense of the word
where he hears it speak and retorts to the buzzing
II.
brought by a field study measuring the turgid falls cleansing him
and sanctioning off partial quarters to annotate each life blessed
in the square of the grid of the larger square that is counted
III.
in its entirety they intermingle with bright stabs of prismatic light
all giving a fabric, coexisting, spilling over our bent plane
IV.
to observe the tranquil immersion in sky
pointed to nothing
the experimenter watches, guided, demur,
spherically still (winged Victories
with bearded goat at foot,) she
transfers the light, gathers primal fabrics
to black art, poised at rudiment with
dogs barking at their stone throats.
within brushwood, fierce eyes, starched
and diminished ruff, her face painted
as chalk in line she pours resonant
and enfeebled to the sea
insofar as the pauper's
nerves pervade,
acquiring obscurity (to the latter example,)
argued to delineate madness founded
in unrelieved obliteration just paces
to the west. blood of rats seeps into
heavy tiles, hands itself down the
drain, lends to dank
bath floors while she abstains
wrapped in golden red
history of un libro mopping
,,ea exigency to its
previous surface
and she sees, accords
one translation of faithful, arrant,
<<in this arcane existence, if it pleases
you, gradi!>>
garrisoned in and i see amarillo sol, delante de
razón (yellow sun, open to reason)
memories spill quickly, spill over (lanzadera:
la taza se ejecuta concluído) one as i squinted
my eyes-and the two men down in silence,
others shuffled off. quieted.
i watch myself, see that my eyes line forward.
i don't look at the floor. make the line forward
line forward
juan carlos won't let up on the horn. moving
forward a man in a suit (lino) grips steadfastly,
reasonably. juan raises his voice
i see an angel (carlos,) his image arcaico-
imposición, (man in flaxen.) he is brisk in
greetings. his face is drawn,
it is drawn.
i breathe in, expire, and breathe in.