Monday, August 30, 2010

by David Wolach
(for Frank Sherlock)

Delusionstalker–Eyes: in you
end up the rest of the gazes

A marginalia


I was born inside Herman Keefer
US census says

You are eleven people
You are well envoweled

I dream

Of a hotel bed
The Sub-lime,

I can smell you
On the pillow

Put it on the tab
Goes the voiceover

Shot with a green
Screen monitor

O constantly updating
Painting: the sea’s

Jagged swells
Are inside me

Causation's manifest reads South
Beeps in matrices in sub-prime

Code every measure
One future's reminder


Installment is investment
So keep this secret:

We lost a lightbulb in your
Chest, the war's not ended

And if love is an act of sub
Mission, bedsores are your deductible

"I read sutures like

If you think about services rendered
We're the hottest resort in town.

How Reagan it is to pick up
Your Isophone, listen for

Salubrious voice, same getme hot
Servile sweet

"The individuated you question—again"
The multitudes droned yesterdays and

My mother gave birth there
Several times

To hear
If you were downstairs

"Am I just a job?
Do you have a family

Or a blow

For the ballast me?"

We were born
Of numbers

Retrieve our numbers
In your name

In a carboat in the sky-past

                          автомобиль лодки (судна)

We were Vladmir,

Language a yet to be
Decided question.

The structure is alive
And far away

Not celestial,

"Do you ever dream
Of chlorine

Or wheezing air machine
Knobs for up and down

Coiled cord
What I look like?"

They keep records in the basement
Our mothers and addicts

In the basement

The rest of the book is too cold to heat

I dream of pyres in your
Selfsame rooms

Why do I keep
Telling you this

And my case number,
Files the size of poverty

As if among nomads
I can make a fond

Roomservice you

With a reduction I keep
Coming back to

On the turnpike
Can you hear

Cars out the window

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