practicing tongues drifting [2015]

                         (…)

question

                         opposite of gallop

obsession

                         apply language wedge

transition

                         plaster the suburbs

congestion

                         absence is coupleable

abscission

                         assume another’s ignorance

infusion

                         mother affects jazz

tension 

                         slacking becomes wishing

                                

          and lurk like a rabbit at the top of the stairs

["We were pernicious in our tassels and triangles, and the contracts came forward like searchlights, tentative, but versatile as dynamite in the hands of a hermit."  Question.  One of us might have been a statue, or a hatch, and another seemed unclassifiable, stacking its misconstrued equipage in tight piles of 48.  Obsession.  Our kingdom is a universe, and paintings of damage; we have smiled shunts into the camera of your intestines, and you are off into veritable phosphorescence.  Transition.  When you are random numerals, it is difficult to maintain fenced-off sentences, but our satisfaction is in the munching of attributes, not in the rhythms of another’s alarms and whittling.  Congestion.  Chattering, chattering, chattering, and the tireless trudge of circular logic are we.  Abscission.  Together, quartz crystals and our high-school heydays make a ladder into a commission of temporal murders, and we are monuments to quitting, or the skyline at dusk, or some slime found on the ceiling beams of your brand new downtown loft.  Infusion.  Midnights, and other entrapments, are all that we have left to give, to the perimeter, or to any young mumbler with the desire to wrangle malingerers and dust.  Tension.  We all gather in illusion, slurp television through straws, and lurk like a rabbit at the top of the stairs.]

conclusion

                         practicing tongues drifting

(…)