Nagasaki
I
asymmetrically
waiting for the weld to hold it was supposed to be a stanza unfiltered language loose hipped and bourbon rich leaning on a wall paint flaking onto its shoulders like rain like old September like Nancy when she cracked her skull against the wall
Sasebo
handing off the baton
the wall sighed and stuck between her teeth it became her even the air vents cackled into thesweaty breath of Peri Peri Chicken Dreams or DreamZ as the sign said in slow lazy neon tattooinglight into rusty drainpipes moss on their lipsSaga
letting go of gone
dripping the sweat of twenty bathrooms into one small metal square in the ground with half apeppermint pressed into the grooves she was propaganda she was every cornerKumamoto
beginning to give
she became it’s bricks and mortar as if she was nothing or a part of everything people died inalleyways people had always died in alleyways but she became the alleyway she became the trashcan the tarmac the drainpipe the graffitiMinamata
you
your open hand behind you
the piss the cigarette butt the fox at 4am she was a wasteland watching restaurants close The SlowGrasshopper sent their last few diners homeKagoshima
threading the air
it's infinite axes
it's infinite axes
minimum wage baristas dragged rubbish outside piling empty barrels into short fat columns buildingtheir own kind of Acropolis out of draught ale and empty pitchers sound of broken glass spilling onher thighs as bin bags tore discarding fragments of timeMiyazaki
blind transfer
dark bathroom windows with lucky cats waving their paws like grandfather clocks in abstractmeditationNobeoka
keeping the pace
or stuck somehow between movement and thought repetition imploring jagged recitationŌita
breaking out
it grew through her toes and what she imagined was her mouth why should her body fit together theway it had beforeKitakyushu
on the backstretch
now it could build itself it was its own architect her elbows were a fire escape she spilled her fingersinto shadows into light into the dawnFukuoka
qualifying distance
alphabets climbed into trash cans into crisp packets into milk carton crud into dirt into the pulse ofeverything that is not Nancy and the rain beat against her
5 comments:
love the images...the slow lazy neon tattooing light.. the half peppermint pressed into the grooves.. alphabets climbing into trash cans...cool on the japanese words and great story telling as well cat
vivid piece...raw and gritty at places....really its enchanting though...stuck between the movement and thought...int he sweat of 20 bathrooms...goodness....
Holy shit, wow, I'm dumbfounded and it boggles my mind.
I want to read it aloud to the stars on a moonless night and to the grains of sand on a deserted beach during a thunderstorm.
That is all.
wow…so full of imagery, depiction…effigy.
very good!
thanks for sharing w/us.
i can imagine this as film
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