you and i were young hollywood in lilliana marie nineteen fifty-six, he and i are more secret life circa 1922 (this is regression)
ay attention) there are two stars: you, he. and then, there is me. (me.) me. -- fall into scene one, hiding in your carriageboat house, do you remember? succession is burning me green, now (the way every line still bleeds blue for you) and time is goodbye, narcotics, or gentrification. your middle mind, still mine. dilated love, why do you telephone wire me from the future past?
we, broken glass fingers comfort shine (remember?) we, some fading dissonance -- unique? we are time. (i) ophelia, erratic, peculiar static, who are you? where is he/the past? (and is this too busy for you?) return to my middle. can't we make this any shorter? (six times six is thirty-six, now) my tongue just needs the river styx and/or hades. fall.
you are ted hughes and i hate your licorice laugh (passed) past over me as leather driving gloves in august, then fall leaves deteriorate iron ore smiles in the middle of the strike of fifty-six, we watched closed lips, can't you remember? i don't wish to monologue mix your stuffed seal from bar harbor, so two days time made me return his timeless bear teddy. now,
fall down -- you soldered still echoâ€™s song. remember! i will meet he now, when time stops, on the greener side and you (quit scarring past middles) he -- confused brilliance. (and i, just me. (me.) me.) ps
he -- i met via gasoline secrets beneath hades sheets, now (he) we conversate get-to-know and longing past for the very (last) first time i swallow fermented stories while he sucks a novel fall (like you read to me under the lighthouse hiding from the limelight (remember?)) but this isn't you, this is he and me were party swirling middle child hearts. he -- molasses lips and chrome spin eyes melt my middle he, a treasure chest of adjectives and iambs; (now i am fading again to your day long sighs beneath old tire trash heaps, remember?) but he -- some sort of bathtub gin smile from the past he, had your look on his face like the fig tree mouth open half smile drawl fall (-ing) and he exit sign smiles with deja spin finger tips for the hundredth/millionth time. i pause for a telegram, staircase suicides, laundry room escapades; first time. i, read with chardonnay lips and/or satin skirt smiles. (i'm in the middle of this and not even paying attention, you, he, me -- i'll fall.) i -- (je ne sais pas), that girl everyone bumps into now. i, (pourquoi) that girl everybody kisses (from the past). i -- (oh hell, try english darling) that girl nobody remembers.
Published on Jul 12, 2012