Tuesday, April 17, 2007


It is darkish.
I become this person
not to count on. Who can we count? Not on me! But
I need you. It’s a darkish rainy day. I’m in Egypt. Remember
this day. We talk about the frogs.
Omigod. Extremely.
Remember me? Do I count? I
ceased bookcase
requires catalogue. I strangelove. Often codes relenting position I
(laugh here). Ha. Ha.
There may be many times you see me in the pillow
(don’t laugh here).
There may be many such nostalgia. Yes
Yes there may be many times I count
like Saturday night when we went drinking
we went dancing we went pinballing and we rented Sunset Boulevard.
Everything becomes yes. Trite like an orchid
and believing that the presidency is sexual. We identify with
every stolen word. Oh my own heart is heavy. I mean
my accent for example. It misses something.
We identify uniquely numbers. We place distance. We play distant. WE
begin printing. Remember?
Yeah, this is cool. We become
like the only person counting. We are not the person not counting.
Not to not count on. Not also the method Sutra bearing this date. Not also
Not Also doable. Wearing
our cracks on our many rainy skins.