Friday, February 1, 2019

Ma’s occasional dancing objects

One limb for each event           the sentimental globe   galvanizes nowhere man who   steps and hits and rubs and        wiggles like no other all at     once I knew won’t be too late  to hallelujah in a double German accept       the dictatorship has a knack for radical determinism       that way won’t ever be too late to slur   the whimper or say dour and mean redolent of how     when it enters flesh the branding iron has legs and walks     the stammering skin into submission Thembi and embers remember    the charts of flutes delivered to pacifists and herders who use    them to laugh a little fixed tilt eradicate Milton for someone on    pills and parole much to her peril she loves the carceral shape of   pharaohs in the shoulder is a lush for blushing lacerations that bubble    like winded flags or the slow-motion depression bellies there were so many depleted    ways to grow initial this scissors to the wrists erotic tickle of sharp on tender          and came to want the iron as a trace of walking through fire or being pulled by the   ear toward belief in the power and delirium of scars as they disappear