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hybrid soirée
poetry [ ]
::pulse:throb:throb:pulse::

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [cory ]

2005-05-30  |     | 



by knotted shawls enveloped, soirées on the road
fork into my eyes obscure usages
of a point of view
perhaps not yours, young man
who stole a coke can hiding a record now

.

home shoes clogged with red soil
had been carrying along six-foot grains
of impetuosity too ardently stamping ideas
forward with the leg a little bent
in my blossoming youth
to convey an approximation of indulgence
in the gesticulating air

.

tyres rolling nowhere. gone
schooling sucks + digging spirituality
everywhere. shaking hands
& you divided both profit and care
after all, I could live on a basin
of porridge, he tells me. subliminal
hostility restores goodwill
.

military bakery on the outskirts
& so few were keen
on the menagerie of pale-hued
characters of the Legend of Mir III
a south korean game, a huge hit in Asia

(two hours here - a strangely placid zone
improving your strategy never your method)

start it in the middle if you wish
last time it took you hours
to win the dragon. flying saber more
and more idly. the lord of spades on the table
has appointed you
to lift the king’s cap at two o’clock
he wanders vaguely, seeing
neither misfortune nor wretchedness
in his courtly dignity


you should have felt surer - of the unnecessary act

.

no one could see the scene shifter in full sail
surreptitiously swabbing his sinews, eager to draw
the horn of plenty
on the cover of a newspaper, with too many
headlines pulling a red town
out of its large ink paunches and many irons
in the fire

.

only facts saved the sun from melting
in my lichee sorbetto
giving no license back to the legal patter
as neat as a new pin for a global
warming hysteria
(the rope dancer
would not have a finger in the pie).

.

all this time we couldn’t help eating pickles
or do the ping-in-wing
of a bit of peruvian flake
thus triggering a calculated deformity
&suck the snake venom from the lieutenant’s colored nape







it’s then you somewhat felt surer - of the unnecessary act



.  |










 
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