Monday, August 17, 2015

text || Lawrence Upton


[two voice
read according to punctuation regardless of apparent sense
read slowly]

she strives to make peace
there isn’t the code
he enjoys a code

you’re making me jealous
he says
it’s always the same unfinished statement of suffering

¿what are we?
¿code?                                                             code
that would serve to go quietly
picks up if they said that his eyes were open
then he cannot bear it                                      then he cannot bear it
not allowed
except under instruction

the ever-changing
the same ridges
across the code

he cannot remember what he saw
i break down
and have been complete
complete artefacts
the machines upon which slips out passion

we won’t fracture your fingers
we need them
police turn up

to do you
to go quietly
picks up as thieves in his own disorder
and have signified unpunctuated inflected or may not have been repaired
there was no movement
tell us
rattle of talent
the machines upon which we to do our civilisation
in himself
from which we too take
i’ll help you
i’ll help you inside
i’ll help you inside simultaneously
that would serve to make peace

if they say
there isn’t time to walk from the code
police turn up sideways

i cannot remember what his brain showed him
it’s always the word

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