Thursday, April 9, 2009

resist fours

resist fours

a torturing application applied

it looks like newspaper in drag, greasy hair

faltering on heels and forward

everything you could desire wrapped up for profit

and perfume, Plunder, leaks from razor burned pits

I hold me to cities of imagination where concept hides

Morella on a crag of the moors

Moquit of the Spanish moss trailing

Carra where the black crows roost together

Roon dammed at the edge of marsh, tunnel

across a matrix of fours combinations tether like sessile fiber

like a sparse 4x4 tacking a boulder in the wash

the results of the operation are in air,

whistling breaths, carbon burn – exhaust

your mother's tit was an exhaust pipe

I carry questions in a net woven from tree of bags, bags

I climb like a goat on slant branches, gathering

knotting, reach out to the furthest branch; depend on a slimmer

belay round crotch and dangle

I know the predictive algorythm when I copy

at morning I wake and at first am speechless, gathering night

from the questions 'What's Happening?' stitch of the land moving

stitch of plates, fill master, suppression of doubt 'Who's there?'

harsh answer of bump plate, stitch of randomness

little variations of chance.

bob phillips

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