Squids

Now we spit such vein-ink, thoughtless,
as I round a sky grown crystal mauve
with emissions. One would think
in this weather of sabres and
ruminations clutched dead-
weight to our chests that

at least William Carlos Williams would
think that thumb-muddied missionaries
could birth breached a bredth of union.
All I got is this lousy mouth of when my love

swam dreads of exhausted light to
greet me across the mall, hold me

close to the dead who fission here,
calling for me in Billy Collins'
plain style of memory charms
Laura Bush. I am unitiated in
University arts. You wouldn't believe

how glazed and red I become explaining
all the pixellations of motive of
emotions involved, lying about

my baptism. I'm covered in it.


2002/12/29 20:37:56


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Anningan (in progress) http://www.lewislacook.com/Anningan/AnningansDoor.html
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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