Tuesday, October 2, 2007

translated a running stream and repetition of red

Son, I wake up and I’m a fly in the shower, above the water with so much thin and brave diamonds swearing their apology. Stoplight in the relative—his humid mouth and red. The relative red color and the angles of soundless sleep. The alone control, son. Wire, I awake to flight in the downpour—to leave—to go the lines. Plants of consolidation and the jesters of a shoe. O it will be supposed that you remember who, good of timber, it was absent from the hearth. It is a locked month of payments—bathed mouth and the relative red color—the calculation and the platform barriers it. The single direction, wire, from one state to another, developed of individual where we are all levitating in our feet. What it has colored the gas-carried aircraft to go. In the corners sleep one inter-country that is built by one single house. Singed the exits sleep whole numbered and hold onto the hinges. This part is always wide and hot, but none can climb under the reticular mesh, the night—can climb in bottom the grid at night, threads wake I the flight. A piece of clothing that it peels behind. The relative red color I center. Thus red of the stoplight in the relative one—keeping better in the articulations and the important persons. Down it I drip off? Peels that he says it and is transmitted to the sky with small brass band, with small sheet metal music. Put together with beautiful precision.


Anonymous said...

hey homes

im havin some troubles sorting this one out. A fly, some water, and the red....the red is killin me, every time i read it i get stumped on the red. Is there a fly talking-yep, is it the waters voice youve translated- i think in parts, but the red....Im done with this bloody thing for a while, its wrapped around my gray. Hope all is well, how bout dem steelers?????

Anonymous said...

words like these must be emanating from a beautiful mind and beautiful lips