THE Lord of Amshire high-fived the
Lord of Butamhereshire (as
the seminal carriage lengthened into dusk &
a field of red Likes swayed in the m-wind—
SAID: I met me a Philosopher. She
was not stout of form, and she was mild,
bc she slept on a precipice—
BUT said Butam you PROMISED
always we’d be there for each other
on the step of step, the view
of view, PLEASE!,
get your digits from out
the cunt of my brain and your words from my cunt. I’m
talking here…I’ve met a Philosopher.
“Let not one word be key to you,” she said & led
us ‘cross the brows of Seine to a place of liver.
The ferry goes & docks in the.
Dappled grove, and the
holy cock and holy cow mosey on out,
white-bearded with sparks—with what
freedom I ran up those trains
and towers, against the flow of her standard: “Je
préfère l’Autre!”…is that the time?
What the? Her name was Hypatia.
happen’d online. I’d scroll around
the block of text till I reached her
where the little curtain was
then I’d touch and enter through into the name. O
pied signified! The stars so bright in here!
Blubberers bring blueberries. Pass
me the hot sauce! —And the crazy open spirit from the mouth
of the prairie floor said—
If classic is modern
If classic is modern
If classic is modern—good Lord. Then what?
(message from our co-sponsors:)
ELEGY FOR PIERO MANZONI
What this place needs more of is
Triangles: one says
To your friend, “She’s the one one really wants
To fuck, but I’ll accept you
As a proxy.” You labeled a profile of you:
“Looking at the wrong shit.” Still, sometimes, P
I see Liberty
It has the shape of
Italy but I know the only Thing to fill this long-
Ing must be Culture...O I’m so ready for Death & if
one could hang oneself off of a hole in the cloud
one so would.
But-am is gone for good. So quiet
in the peanut cart tonight.
Dea of rare flesh,
Sink into your constellations. Too,
fuck your fat tin ring: O horror & beautee
of a marréd woman, gimme your marooned macaroons Your
may float deeply towards the c on your
meadow in Montauk,
whole piazzafuls of obscure I even
prayed to Venus for you
& other operae in the sky &
would borrow any cash or text
to dress you in the freedoms you require &
of barricades I'd
make you readymades