20130919

John M. Bennett



hue

huevoteco
huevonado
me huevo
tu huevas
te huevas

el huehueveronte





soak

each churn was soaked
each ,born a rain the
,bombing ,shallow graves
,watches buried in the
screens your figured
soap forgotten ,was
chewed when swallow
ed like the stalled
yaxché pondering in
the wind ,drier than
lakes ,a pulmonar
chattering at the
wall your mask de
fines ,rubbery in the
heat

your lips ,regression ,tires




fence shock

incremental outer etch
other qui est semblable à
un insecte sur une salade
the gnot sporne other
noar morning or parch
sur l’abdomen le sein desséché
de sa mère a pie a pie
hacia el error sísmico de comer
celestial horseliver maladie
du cigare thing the body
revelations de las nalgas
des larmes de caoutchouc
furniture suburbia canal
de Panamá in a field des larmes
)de plus( d’hydrogène et cáncer
des canards sauvages reve
latio grinder populated by
interventions stuffed with
dolls le ruisseau solidifié
of trinkets des épinards cala
veras con lengua de chalchihuite
not lake are these but lake
l’eau ui upo ioop )even level
events( comme un chien dans
la mer omo lake flows
papery aperturas en el
cuerpo singulante


With chunks from Jim Leftwich’s
Six Months Aint No Sentence, Book 48, 2013
&
Benjamin Péret, Le gran jeu, 1928





have a smoke

sees the shoe siezure sees
the nape glowing a mong
the trees sees the mice snar
ling in my loafer sock sl
iding down stairs your
cup of ffliies - corndog
c rushed on the porch
where Bertrand Bhuns sits
and smokes a leg sieze
the shirt sees her sieze
the shape slowing next the
cheese sieze the rice
wriggling in the water


...the corn the smoke...
- Blaster Al Ackerman





sheen

laundered thru the shadow
or your doggèd focus ,of
,gristle ,slog-heavy an yr
leg ,chewed my bleak thin
neck filled with light .y
our compacted bulb your
slept dog behind the d
oor ,through the watery
cave toward feathered
dawn ,arf .baked an
drowsed ,murmuring in
the stool viscous on yr
buried bomb .half w
alked half waked h
alf loo ked an fin
gered the drained th
umbs left in yr pocket


...il est du pays d’à coté...
- René Char




fun dot

the louts are crawling the
gas reseals the outer sn
ore pisser a pes ,your
scrool shader ,fork an fog
,ice turds glitter in the
winter sun ,,, wilted cl
ouds the sprawling last w
ords
,,, )yr pork log sw
eating on the floor( a
table sprouting hair my
iceolation finger rai
sed eh eh eh
))yr
cable knotted in “the”
pants(( )))fool’s n
amer ,taut with slop ,,, (((

...the nuts are loosening


mimo

mostro
misti
))mamotreto((

manierismo
de multitud


mistmentirioso



 
 
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