aperture: provides controlled light. As travelers, we tripped upon the broken bicycles of Amsterdam. The shout of city trams, the sweat of homeless.
exposure: accurate, or essential. As futile as nightfall (burning-in). Symbolized a need for large numbered groups and maps in pockets. Her earrings danced alleys (notes promiscuity) to shift affairs more precisely. How are we willing to sit?
film: latent. A pawn in play with relics, oh it strolls in museums, opened in a novel era. hyperfocal: depth. as futile as daybreak (reflect). Maybe concentrated on the distortion. The fisheye. Her tour’s guide of the countries.
lens: coma. We are foregoing all our own memory. The bridges snake cobble stones, while vino cures the mouths of the cafe, the half scones, the menus filled with tips.
shutter: motion. I’ve been jumping trains again. Bullets slide along tracks of latitudes, dotted with docile hostels.
zoom: distance, or simply departure.
dead man's float
seaweeds seem to be in motion again surrounding hallways filling up on algae
marbles moaning as they roll down backs of chairscalling out numbers
on chalkboards while sound waves through eardrums adding cushion for five minute solos
–can you hear them singing?
atop herrings necks stretched across the table it takes one with a ruler to find its heart
sweaty and blood leaking from gull’s feet
it’s time to rewind it’s time to remind passerby to leave some for the rest of us it’s time to rest
pull conch shells over my eyelidslet cattails live in my windowsillsscratching the broken bell jar
–I don’t want to sit
salt stains the fins in the corners of my mouth slide the ocean over the moonI soon will be able to fish
count crabs in my stomach as pelicans bellow –below! below!urchins fill my bed
scratching the wind blownred skin and suck on the ends of my hair
tendrils of seashells cover the carpet making it hard to walk on water
build a styrofoam boat to sail on out of here
–it will not always be this easy
sometimes sand dollars know best sometimes it’s time to sleep
drip Monet on my collar bone and splash Renoir on my voice box let me sing of Denver through O’Keefe’s reds and skeleton blues antique rust and Van Gogh is an orange.
leave coattails of his yellows and top hats of his greens around my ankles let me swim with Herman Melville among the frigid waters to lost luggage.
case my two lips with Marlin Brando’s photograph I want to be infused in leather motorcycle mama part Dalai Lama Tibet is open for travel open for business. jet fuel my stockings soaking up the rainwater Dickens danced alleys and Dickenson called birds blue jay cardinal sparrow flop on the pavement.
below is just Illinois just how you left her hover over the Hoover Dam and jam band across the Mississippi but my heart is leaking and loving Kentucky.
so pour in the medicine and mix with the mint julep cup passing a past time lost in translation in missionary position.
dish out water with bath water don’t loose the baby’s diaper dangle among the clothespins and ponder your existence this is only a paroxysm this remains nascent.
i keep you in a flower vase a fenced in piece of nothing in dead parking lots, waiting for the ashtray to lead me astray.
under florescent lights in that jonquil dress all the billboards are our best friends.
on the shadows of over passing planes made of hay and cornhusks the moon is rowing and the devil is a railroad car.
like a stretch of future graveyards pin your heartbeat up as i light a fire underneath myself, the bonnet wears a wire albatross
singing just a little bit.
lighting up the tilt sign
she is a sparkplug red bellied and coiled
he is a mechanic oil infused and callused
syringed and splitbodied brilliant her ankles bound in feathers
her collarbone bends in filaments with corsaged hemlines at her fingertips
revolver mouth and peppermint hunger his motorcycle jacket did the rumba
his shoulder switchbladed in tongues kerosened party guests eat black mamba
sutured and water bound in silence their spines stretch over the crowd
their arteries hum hollow from violence and whalebones point out the holy shroud