Bowl of Light - The Argotist Online

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faery Mound glittering electric something small rebellions spark cap guns burn in the sun that is there women dance slow gyres powerline strength denatured alcohol syncopated in a corner where two trees meet from the bottom the top looks different maudlin feet itch in too-tight shoes lightning and feral faeries bare tiny torsos and encumbered without mothers this mushroom circle without paying aggressively inked with night and something more bows it's the intention of blood /static buzzes ornamental grass /towers fall and plastic army men /over the hills the moon rises caterwauling /just there amongst the saws /not sure what that is /and rainbows end /gray and heavy with stone /no socks in summers with summer /dancing where we are rooted /no one gets through this gate /tiny pointed teeth bared and breasts /arrows drawn without /to beget and shed rain or no rain again the night shudders /giving birth to a moon blasted from smog existing only as a tale burned at their table /bizarre thanksgiving of course we don't understand /night can really do things electric things that hate and twist /enzymatically through wires and air the same scared to kiss even /the beautiful dangle fishhooks amongst the living whose /corpse you'd devour at once were it so and you didn't operate as more than metaphor /clear as ice in a suddenly bright place with hats off clowns are slightly /less deranged than that last accident who hit whom, does it matter /fight and love spread similar patterns in snow the last we saw it /never clean no matter how you love never fading no matter what /you wash at an empty place but still you hear laughter /braying children of misfortune whose queen you are and stole /never to be returned home is a memory /times that abstract furies of sound glow deeper synthesize pain /golem of spit and wire prize your life from their gold fingers and hum your electric song.
shake that, again Cold zombie sheets ;the sleepy unhistory, starved yellow by a glassless Floridian moon and floating downdream wet hands made of pretime :mold and raw, nearly divine static from one half a bald pair your father's Magnavox await the pounce /ponce danger shrouds in twin harpsichord scatterings, there :one quick-bitten nail and megaphone - puddled blood, a long-vanished chain receipt, decrepit theories enumerated across the backs of thousands of tiny pages - a beetles' feast shake that. again.
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Bowl of Light C. Brannon Watts Argo
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Bowl of Light
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owl of light I. The feckless rule t
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V. cold arms and questing mouths of
Page 10 and 11: the ignorance of lost causes Coloni
Page 12 and 13: poet of my youth, fragile hate and
Page 14 and 15: portrait of my unease. I can do not
Page 16 and 17: intelligibility comes and goes I wo
Page 18 and 19: dandelion What is it, exactly what
Page 20 and 21: Ninety Degrees “Spaceship Earth i
Page 22 and 23: here, and them Your deadspace collo
Page 24 and 25: ut oh, delicious child. gloryman Ta
Page 26 and 27: punching clouds Fucking process cur
Page 28 and 29: on arrogance Of course you're beaut
Page 30 and 31: interstitial We've made disastrous
Page 32 and 33: miraculousviolentwintermoment Here
Page 34 and 35: with you, I can smell where you hav
Page 36 and 37: you and weight.
Page 38 and 39: the pornographia of substandard min
Page 40 and 41: in a forest drizzle-whispers cross
Page 42 and 43: everywhere below the belt Nickels f
Page 44 and 45: there is nothing I can do to steal
Page 46 and 47: Hubble repairs notwithstanding When
Page 48 and 49: inertia I await miracles same as an
Page 50 and 51: when When women get together they t
Page 52 and 53: lasted all over the road with billb
Page 54 and 55: dance hall explodes, killing one fo
Page 56 and 57: how punk All these men nab carrots
Page 58 and 59: your family and all you hold in you
Page 62 and 63: splice the mainbrace Splice the mai
Page 64 and 65: sound 1. "Organized religion has do
Page 66 and 67: glorious on a cellular level Her fa
Page 68 and 69: cloisonné What on earth does that
Page 70: C. Brannon Watts is a poet and educ
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Bowl of Light - The Argotist Online

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