Dada will always have its time for revelation, yes,
yes, au revoir mes amis. My mother says till next time
to soup studies. Misogynation is the place where we mix/
me lounging around and you with your head in my ankles.
Watching over, securing the compound. We walk beside
the parametres for miles and miles mon coeur, again and again
braving the cold like cats and dogs. We are digging beds for
the flowers. We are tucking them in and out. I am looser I am
baying, lowing, glazed like a sine wave, jusque a Levine, as
the door comes down. Check every box. Technically every dir
ection is weakened, like sweat, a teaspoon, removed vigorously,
broken, undone, undone, undone, condone, undone, undone, undone.

This entry was posted in animals, language(s), lover, poetry, repetition. Bookmark the permalink.

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