I’ll let you sing your favourite rock song if it meets my approval
I’ll let you sing it with an open heart beneath
the hunger of your silence - synonyms - the sad neo-liberal sea, that sea beyond measure, long and blue like the sky’s skin, tickling the feet of god
I’ll let you sing as your limbs are eaten by the swim
I am blessed with courage, but my patience lies in tatters. Your dream
is split into an insoluble vacancy, severed by erotic pics of foam
At the crest you descend its vertical
Your hand falls off as you reach my mansion
Your nuisance petitions of credulous passion
Your nuisance eternal petitions
The years pass you around
The horizon matriculates
The heap slips apart
I am sick at heart
I feel it clutch in your chest, like the justice of a pay-cut
I aim at you
In my absence you see my face lit up, eating your surplus
I aim at you
we will change everything
I have faith in you
[after René Char]
victory is clear
The bird is beached on the tear,
the serpent is the same,
Plato dances in the sky.
The explosion in the noose, the lonely dance inside me.
Folded in sound, how can I comment on the nature of my advantage?
The pulse of a second memory, the changes on my face, the season’s pulse is poor and flammable and our session will expire!
The havoc of slow snow descends with leprosy.
Sudden love, the equality of terror, the dumb hand that sees the cinders arrest, readdress the sun, reconstructed lovers.
Nothing announces existence with such force.
after René Char
Now Available from Stomapress:
SENTiENCE by Leanne Bridgewater
A three-thousand word sentence on the mistreatment of animals
£6 w/ High Digger’s From the Ear-far-out-wrung of these Thinkings by Ollie Evans
E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org to order
(whilst we sort out our Paypal button for tumblr [Grrr])
And here is Leanne’s sonic-rendering of SENTiENCE
Danger! It is fake fur. It is a false life.
The illness of the future is in the past.
The Sun dominates the drought like it had a permit or some special pass.
Eternity is never false. No one voted for the domination of the sun to drop.
If the Sun evaporated, the ones on the left would agitate, discord, supplicate, vomit.
It is futile to pass a vote on the dropping domination of the sun.
Death feeds upon the Middleincome, indecisively, chewing on its fur.
Finally I can live. I shall never rest again.
Impoverished solicitude, if only I shared your absolute voice. Welfare is history.