Saturday, December 7, 2013

text || Lawrence Upton

A tissue
[ | indicates a gesture – | within a line indicates that the performer gestures whilst continuing utterance; | on a line of its own indicates some kind of major demonstrativeness and perhaps some razzamatazz]

called cock in its crowded wet
horrible old empty-face
that aged burst into this normative man
any actor asked him and fell
was rushed into the damp
not the whole company
burnt beautiful, the beloved, private magazine to prepare
the bell as | the worst | balance
your finger | miseries
the doorbell | a kind or category of nightmare
sparkling prisoners her long awaited guests
sparkling princess
everything out of my life

how can it be learnt
with her friendship
not touching me
with a telephone
the task of a grief
your leg muscles damaged
huddled up into a
of the body of the prince
your face in these parts
as soon as
to go back to
to get back
the make-up
had recurred
and started
and almost
and changed
from the
when the
her story
do you want to hear it?
the other things laughed

I shall need the typewriter beautiful today
she said
she put eggs into houses
released from a whole section
a secret flicker of this situation
cut off at a button | that alone
very quickly | blue-eyed
ground him | grounded him | downed
full of people | like the wind
in the morning crush
my husband | started
I had no further adventures that's when it | hissed
humiliating | screaming | sexuality
pushed him | on to the floor
all women's shoes
twisted | all getting experience
I can remember
our last | few words
a gloved hand | into the show like
between my legs | identical | alone
I dreamed of
no wonder | he was quite a celebrity | collecting signatures
 it was quite | a bitch | a suitable object
melancholy | in being a | gliding
its motor had started
he lit a cigarette | give me one impregnation
and entered an animated face | radiated

cautiously arrived at the desert
the high street has been obliterated
he made his fear | becoming cold with it

it tilled his inner ear(s) and brought forth blossom
sticky | accomplishing nothing
in order to cut all such sound from his accreting memory

both views | binding a view conducting it

the whole situation | it's partial
highly placed | and still yours | always | closer
just now experienced
immense forces | close to the sun
fading into dark red | but no further
malformed shapes
which was not the presence of matter | around him
around him | but its absence
choked in | this time | and its immense vacuity

he realised he couldn't it was disastrous

the frail tall oak

she walked round them scornfully

and he was wondering at them all sitting there
to be pointed by the news

ground was strange ground for him

it was a shock hearing his own voice

then actually laughing
it must be taped

the window was a wound
if you stood on the edges of the whole panorama with your hands gesturing intimidations
his boy was beginning to read as the phone rang
the footpath flowed with long grass which was so crossed by animal tracks it reminded him of a mosaic
time was unbearable for him to contemplate | he laughed

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