unplugged 1/9/2015

17 Jul

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unplugged 1/9/2015

 

right now
i am watching a wild
madly brilliant
young songstress dancing
on a stage
on a page
on a minimized screen
i’m smoking a cigarette with my tea
it’s early, must be just a quarter after three
her performance is unplugged
she’s singing jimi’s angel now
and it’s snowing outside
but here, it’s warm
i’m thinking chinese food
an egg roll, some fantail shrimp, maybe pork with broccoli too
it might have been a rough week, i don’t remember
in fact, it’s all forgotten now
the smoking gun, she’s getting into her indictable offenses
four fingers clutching a bombinating belly
the inosculating litterateur gazes at her navel and yawns a new dimension
splitting words and therefore sounds
(because aren’t worlds but mere sounds, after all
wingless, apteral)
oh, as she dances
hair as a whiplash with a smile underneath
i pick up the phone and dial the szechuan garden down the block
run by miss diaz
we, both, here, feel at home
because we both know
that there’s nothing underneath
but ground, heavy travel bags and bone
and other kinds of being left alone

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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