Tuesday, March 16, 2010

My Aleeuna

It's incredibly loud anyways. I yelled
you look comfortable. Has it always been
so easy to read your lips?
Nobody touches anyone,
in our holding pattern, it's misty, hip, eye-colored
in the afternoon, the 10,000 year-old man attacks, moves on,
after the alarms sound, criminals devote themselves to mourning, move on.
And our fortune is described the loudest,
the loudest criminal alive assumes before it's revealed to us
that we have already wandered into death.
A kerchief is placed on a placemat.
Kerchief on kerchief.
Hold on to my future self.
My chain-reaction sits in front of an angel, I look at the ice
melting on the angel's tongue.
When the angel raises its voice
I am determined. Slice me a bit of your recent past.
It's 60 degrees in the water, up to my ears.

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