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Monday, September 3, 2012

poetry || John M. Bennett


 olvido del viaje

mi tonelada mis cumbres mis
huesones aguados ...entre
las tumbas tumbo ,sabor
de grava y orinas ,una
muralla verde sin ventana
con pinta POE MAP E
y ¿dónde la tormenta?
)my wheels shining in
the soup and laundry(
isofaction and a dense
)peso líquido ,foggy s
cales ,the whistling
road(  my liquifaction
...simetría y foco es
trellado I couldn’t
stand I stood I s
at I couldn’t ...sit
uation of yr fósil a
hogado ,entro ,entre
las piedras  . . .  .  .

...gritty tooth...
- Dr. N. Ulo

  

olvido del cacahoaquáhuitl

ruta o reloj mis cacasitas o
tliltic cacáhuatl foaming in
the back of my eye the other a
pool under stone where ,)so
mething drib bles in my p ants(
yr comb’s teeth rustling in
my pocket “tines to go”
wheeling ,shouldered ,swimmy
,toenails in the ticking dust
,,,  ...drew the bloody page
my itch reissue ,protect the
shitting factor ,steep funct
ion zipping around in’s
dark panting at the foot
of the bed the highway sh
rivels and my headless
drink dries on the street

...y a veces échalas en el agua...
- Fray Bernardino de Sahagún 



olvido del libro

my plunging soap uh ,pill piles ,p
ages or were they windows ,why the
matter’s name’s crowded halitosis
,wrought ,bent ,striation like a  f
lag  )tomb barker(  ‘less my
chamber floods and your darkest
drink streams through a hole
down hill ≈ ≈  .the rodent
sleeps and I my whisper dog
,chewing ,drizzled ,the stone’s
thought inside ,kinda light
but gritty ,faceted ,bar
ely breathing as I watch th
at dimming wall of books th
ose hats in dust those shoes
strangled on their tongues
.my soap sleeps in mud and
all your towels are drowned
,“blame your fingers”

...aguas negras...
-Manuel Acuña



olvido playero

restless indication matters im
pactly foghorn ,focused ,f
aster blasting at the wall tus
hoyos inmanentes ,de azúcar
atestados ,tianguis en la ,pl
aya sumergida ,roofless
cloud hangars with their
blood-spattered walls rows
of legs nailed to the plas
ter dust caking on the
headlights what my active
hinges saw recounted ,m
uy estimado ,fíe en mí
.I ran across the road I
swallowed all the keys I
stimulation crashed the
faucets gleaming in your
trunk ,was saddled wit
h a suitcase ,standing
in the w,Wind

...mi costa nula, con túnel.
- Vicente Huidobro

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