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Showing posts from November, 2014

Claudio, Dutch on the Platz

There's an empty bowl beside Claudio on the bench. He's been here all morning waiting, waiting, waiting. His trouser cuffs are rolled up tight to his calves. His socks are hanging from his side pocket. Behind him is Bruegel’s Hunters in the Snow in a scrolling frame the color of warm morning piss. While the Kentuckians peer over his left shoulder, dog and squirrel at hand. His short cap is muskrat (mostly vole but some lemming too). Dyed royal red at the Herfort near Lac du Platz it smells like damp madder and rancid fat but likely it’s just vinegar rubbed in with some coarse salt and ash. Claudio passes the time humming idly,
The candles are burnt and so are the schools the broom in the muffin the broken Spanish furnace missing the shack get spare the horse is gone but the cow is here the weather is coming to follow the saw my mother son mother son down to the river and under the bridge the windows are far away
Kitty & Patty (from the english to english translation)

idle shadows, loot the frame?

For poetry shaped lids PS and secure cradles but I've been wanting on about breaking things, stuff, and the bunches of bunches of men. I've been making the language that describes impartial fucking lame.
So lets just ask the point. To a bunch'a warm this TREE. When you did, Bee Button Eye,
Bee, Sam Equals
Team Sir