by Brentley Frazer
There stood Beauty pulling the skin from her abdomen. Biodegrading behind her plastic flowers on a trellis of barrels. As we danced on the cool blue laminate of the garden the blunt edge of shadows hit us through phonebooks. Other silver children juggling with nothing obscured by the green. In the end days data-storms will flood the circuits of the digital mind. In the public bathroom spending his last 2 dollars on pheromones and condoms. He had cold meat beneath his fingernails, whispered about some ancient form of predatory mathematics unraveling in his genes; that he was moved to lick her wounds, and never let go of your balloon, he said, string in hand.
now the hours of light have narrowed to the wilderness of hyper-text he said & Orpheus wings it to the peripheries of sanity vast symphony in surround sound. remember the chanting of the devotees in the city square yesterday. the screams of sick acid angels tearing out their feathers. enamel paint of tonka trucks glowing in the sun.
The Far Reaching of Shame
She lifts the veil that her sister may witness the circumcision of the jackal. Her tongue tastes of purple and the air laden (the night alive) with a similar scent. Cool green tears have carved furrows in the walls. With a calm and meticulous finger I feel for secrets. The dreamer far reaching conceals her breast beneath the pelt of foetal elephant beetles toil in the dust at her feet. She speaks - There are no sins for us!
WAR! || BROKEN NEWS || CRITIQUES & REVIEWS || CYBER BAG || EC CHAIR || FICCIONES
THE FOREIGN DESK || GALLERY || LETTERS || POESY || SERIALS || STAGE & SCREEN || ZOUNDS
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