1. |
Copper
04:30
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i feel it anyway (the way you think of me). i choose a better county when i want to sleep.
in the hue of dramatic sky, leaked in the folds of a horizon line in a postcard by my bedside, tucked in a novel i couldn’t write . . . i surround myself with things for inspiration, which just suggests to me that my surroundings aren’t engaging.
in stiffness, in sickness and in health. in a morning sky, i found your eyes sent in from a sunbeam to distract from the wind––humbling in confrontation . . . a killer
I hope this finds you well––in health and in the mail and caligraphically imparts myself to you.
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2. |
Yam
01:30
|
|||
grandma's house
|
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3. |
Christ
02:00
|
|||
jesus christ in the way a t is a cross or circumstantially in this arrangement of Burger King fries lying cruciform as the god in my eyes meets the god in hers.
i rest on my heart, like drinking in public. my skin takes on scars, from walking in public.
“two-tone,” i say, describing my color, “in black and blue, mixed in a bruise.” lithography or toned darkroom paper: my life on me in the form of a shiner.
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4. |
Four
01:00
|
|||
four
|
||||
5. |
Tone
01:30
|
|||
and honestly, they both meant nothing to me. and on an ominous display of something. from me to you and ahhhhhahsoudhashdah
|
||||
6. |
Ranch House
02:30
|
|||
who can see their counterpart can reach inside their mouth to find a photograph that you chose to forget.
it’s your first glass in a while and you’re freaking out. then you say, “if i drive, it’ll take my life.”
you’re perceiving the wind like a cyclone (or just rotting in place) as you move from your bed to the kitchen, but you forget why you were there in the first place. you are a thousand colors although you use vernacular. you’re worth a thousand dollars although . . .
eye . . . eye contact . . . in the elevator
|
||||
7. |
Start My Day
01:00
|
|||
iwakeupbrushmyteethputmyclothesonstartmyday
|
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8. |
Original
03:00
|
|||
to be binded by geography like a tree disrupts a power line. to be blinded like geography from a moth and a light
my face wicks away the water on your lips. and i watch as it drips and peels out from your face and floats towards the sun . . . like the opposite of rain.
a dense fog licks up the east coast . . . if there is any action i could retract, i’d not influence the weather with my breath (although the beach remains intact). now i’m stuck indoors with gales on the littoral and i savor sea salt on my lips and in the air. tumult in the face of sun and all on my own . . .
your rapidly beating heart (like climbing a mountain/a whole lot of pageantry)
i should take less meaning from things (your heart)
|
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9. |
Taupe
00:30
|
|||
taupe
|
||||
10. |
Ball
02:30
|
|||
i seek a plausible distance when it’s too much to take in. another quite clear affirmation that i am suspended (or hanging). and i say and i try and i wait . . . between us, chaos is born, nourishing their regrets.
embracing the face of hate-speak, its reflection in the blood of my enemies. reflected in you and me and visible in the liquid of our eyes. to pierce my arm again, the one that's deformed and when i'm done then i'll blend in . . . under-dramatic.
|
||||
11. |
Drab
03:00
|
|||
the look of today is the way things looked in 1993. not an important place, but as years pass i'm standing there with you. every tree is dead from winter, grass more brown than green. the sun is high and i feel warm, but it feels wrong––at least optically. now it wakes me up, take out the only one. the rotting tooth that threats your heart and your arm.
|
||||
12. |
Upstairs
02:00
|
|||
upstairs
|
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