colon_nialism is all lobster tailed
with sides of turpentine glazed chai
turn. slide. pin. dazeth of contact, or
are colon and colony enraptured brothers
did they, in a word or two, make out—
suck face. Break trust and oscapy appointments
to see the coast on uneven cliffs
turned? slid? pinned? what to make of them?
compassion is the radicalism of continuity, so:
that river that runs through cattails
jump that rivet that bolts through cocktails
take the time to slit deserving throats
the wife-dictatee-up to inky river,
but six complete ballrooms in a row are empty—
full of women that are full of modern breasts and
one too many hopes of being fucked that night
turning, sliding, pinning. connotation null.
there are too many i's in cipher
are too many indigos in dimitri
in our shower caps we argue that rope vines are
un-trusted forms of transportation
in the way that railroad ties only really tie two rails that never touch.
a man on the front of a shopping cart on the third-floor landing
"hello, I can, I think I can, hello?"
and there was no one there but the last
to take me home after adventures in Calcutta
notice we sweat ourselves transparent
even with all the promised hydration of the wet coop