Thursday, January 20, 2011

The Backstroke


In here in the pitch black darkness is when I had my biggest dream---
dreams that no one could see
and no one could ruin

It was all a bunch of Escher up in here
with some moving walkway that did nothing but prove infinity

which is something we could never do
out there

and we loved swimming in these canals together---
on our backs in there
looking up at a moonlight serenade that certainly only belonged to us

And now---
my left eye was lynching itself
submerged in fatigue

---and so I surrendered to the thought of maraschino cherries
---and what the back of your kneecaps felt like against me

2 comments:

  1. There is a distinctive style of train-of-thought meanderings when I read your work. Here it was difficult to find anything to latch onto, which perhaps is the point. At some junctures, the reader is made to feel a constant nothingness, a blurry obstruction one inch from his eye, and then you lift the curtain to reveal an expansive sky. But from where comes the conclusive part of the passage? The left eye, the maraschino cherries, the kneecaps? It is at this point that I don't know where to turn.

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  2. Are there backs to kneecaps?? Eat your sunday enjoy yourself!!!!!

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