Saturday, July 25, 2009

The Game Is Over (Fragment of a Film Viewing)


{for Phanero}
love, JW


cocinor sitar

fluid zola














a cure










la so fond
begin:

train in ruins
[lycaeum]

ka-mir-ra

purple samovar
maid moor negress

stealth [approach]

white

her fantastic crotch

communism

sound like

donkey, or head

[appeal]














'in the face'











me?


black grip [triste]

petite



sound of animal

scarf
or mustang















the tan road





'the red'



from hound
to hound's tooth


hairlip (a glimpse_

militaire.












an even younger
girl














domes passing by


















'me'


a slight itch
near the base of the nostril



liquid.


disapproval.
voila.













the question
is one of sex,
or lumber.

























a very particular air,
first dawn of sitars.

in the west

[myst aire]





pop art
china








caped racer!








they enact 'sphinxes'

plays, moves, gestures,
relations,

traditions

or 'purple closet'

[for drinks]



warm vagina cigarette
bath sitar

body
in wiriting.

golden loop.


fur

shotgun

breasts


"kimono"






taking time
to start with Zola.


'poet'
watching her body
his head


no.

no.

a slow denouement
encapsulates
the entirety.




























green Mongol Maxime.

he is beautiful, grotesque.

[her squeals].

perfect!

2 comments:

  1. Sensational!

    Mallarmé for the Millennium!

    Dare to drink in space!

    cocinor sitar

    fluid zola

    The palabras never get that lonely feeling, must mean floating in a sea of space is good for their mental health.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Bloody genius, that's all there is to it.

    Gets better on every reading.

    THE greatest poet of our time.

    ReplyDelete

Irrony Observes The Earthing.