postal

who are these IT girls, do they compute?
impossible to conceive of the actual
en route to Eindhoven or Arnhemland, stop for a while
sluice weary flags with blue water

a great number of how you say refrentions
horizon a colossal deferral of understanding
in the red heart
in the desert

eyelid flickers like a lizard
these IT girls, who are they
do they compute
i said bring that flask over to me I’m thirsty

estuarines loll and then explode
like a crusading peloton of Minke

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 31st, 2003 at 2:56 AM and filed under Old stuff, Poetry. Trackbacks are closed.

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