I am the
owl. Bring me dust, red dust
flash
paper; gunpowder
in the
silhouette of a woman,
shower me in paprika.
shower me in paprika.
I am the
awl. She just wants a hug, that's why
she's
crying; she wants to reveal, one by one,
her
punctuation tatoos; font: courier,
the
sphinxlike question on her ribs.
I am the
all. Unquarantined lymph system
intact,
arrhythmia in the formula, appetites
unsynchronized.
I
am the cowl. I pray using FedEx boxes;
I
make poison out of camera film
and
the organs of hyperpronated
pigeons.
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