Nico Vassilakis


from The Fog Line

Three simultaneous places to stand. Twice.
Succumbs ably to torture. The last feathers of summer and spheroid appraisals. If to detonate the handmade bauble, to eliminate the small progress. Tonight is one out of a deck of assessments. The appendage written writes its place on the body.
A tonal misadventure.


The scarf was strewn on the floor in the shape of the letter S. Scalding scissors seated shady silent slanted sodden spattered squarely strophic & superior. Investigating is riddled with holes.


Several threads and the conclusion’s assured. The morsel detailed with flavor. Imbedded in resin like an ant's head in a jolly rancher. Thunderstruck, an orchard bends to the ground. What thoughts could be there now. An ashtray in the back seat. A cardinal proudly on a fence. Due to poorly displayed signs we get lost immediately. The rolling of the carpet, she whispers, it's like a tongue. In saving receipts the customers recall their binge. There is nothing here, but itself. Mining history for the muse Assimilate. Rear-ended complexion. A vanity in the shape of a commode. All reason alights and is violently doused.


Decides repetition will suffice. Small talk that gets engorged. No amount of paint can save this wall. Staring your way to a solution. Applying easy mathematics to calculate how much time has lapsed. One night the clock fell. A giant conversation with hardly any parts. Sudden movement shows the air is viscous. It shattered in pieces.


The specialist comes and dreams a way through your problem. I’ve never met them before. A postcard. A modernist quintet in the rain. Index cards full with scribble. That kind of writing makes my eyes blur. Pointing to the top most shelves in the display cabinet. The shortness of breath. Overhearing instructions on how to fix the problem with your portable device. Printing billboards, tagging billboards. You will know him by the looped affectation of his letter ‘f’. Thinking a scenario before it happens.

*

Spots left from nights
Last conjure into new days

This bendable box. Velvet twist. Your open palmed marble.
Come in, each letter rubber stamped, COME IN.

The right ear touching my left. Next to it to see as I see. As I’ve no ideas, but ideas. That go nowhere. Racing there. To get there. And if it works we go together.

The bendable part is for peering through.
Like a song stuck. Frivolous, then bloody ruthless.
A nugget that spits you out.

Undeterred. It flows, as well swells, exceeds too.
Push in the back of your chair. All formal.
The setting dialed to formal. I hate you.

Ok, so how to experiment from here.

 
 
 
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