Thursday, September 25, 2014

text || Lawrence Upton

The thorn tree drowned

“The trick was to go away and then return
 Later, without promising when”
                                    David Wevill


pull the systematic!
very age has difficulty

controlling shaking
cameras break away from thugs

never implied anything

over to the map
flickering suggestions
vanish quickly

journals moved but weren't alive
certainly will destroys the world

sun on the ice
crushed boats

bringing things in obtrusive plastic bin liners

crowds worms


cut heads

creeping summer
risen hour

dress themselves up
simplistic fashion  riverbank

imaginary dancer guns cavorting distances
liberal words of softened candle wax
as thick as ever inside
leaning against time

insular bubble in search of content
worries about copies of utters
dripping on your tape then runs
untangling the light on the actual surface of
the doors of the echoing murderers

news ignores their violence
drift out of answers
a landscape he tells about
earth executed with human skulls

Napoleon enters the author
face photo of the worked organism
has begun the worst age
bringing things to angels

murderers lead individual interest
the room in the past the police entered
executed with a camera
time the dressing up
knuckles of mind


a close up love endurable somewhere ramified
veering windows see things in a straining unfleshed muscle
until the passing of danger in a city of children
the news ignores their bellies
the other amputated tongue
indistinguishable from the background thirst
is all within
which nothing
strictly nothing

decoy destroyed and multiplied
imagines people
crossed out of his head

light is off

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