zip codes 2

2.)

The desperation that is (finally) all love
would evolve to a warm mull. Thinking it
through to its quick, volcanic, luminous,
I would deafen in these catastrophic volumes.

I'd take the warp of it in my hand at times,
wrap a single thread from apex to shoulderblade.
Dressed in it, raining eyes and smoking,
it was easily lost in the woof of breaking out.

Oh,

I can stand it sometimes. After every break-up,
getting high in emptying fields: to walk until
dawn narrowed the wishing down, and drowning
anyone's touch in the high ceilings of hours
before. It was a little room, yellow with

my lungs. The most appropriate act, as
always, would be to swallow. To spit.

=====

http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/


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