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becoming

Posted on 27/11/2020 by Mark Prisco

the face indistinct composite says nothing but bluffs, a closed bud a violet the garden hung w starlight no-one sees, the trees undercut, shades between, the plane that glides the voided sky at Pisces. 

call it digression, a slip in standards. my dna is 99% gorilla 

2% banana, but we’re not similar. 

the death of nations. heads rolling in the last flush of sickness. my bed, slant of sky, that narrow band wide ½ a moon & cloud, am i dying for sure. the sins of mankind’s mine 2 as much as gut ache is & indigestion is & fists that clutch the emptiness. i have learnt to smile, show teeth, twirl; lean against your post, the mind indolent. come here. if i kill, it’s clean like in the shower. 

i’m not serious & you know & that makes me sad. [note to self: what does Sad look like; what does it feel like; what does it taste?] rip it up, regret it later; find sellotape & where to peel it back from. dig but don’t come, rub w ringed fingers, the cheap metal makes you swell, & don’t come, & writhe the silk & don’t come & tear the skin off my face & don’t come. [what does Frustration look like. what does it feel like? happy, happy love that can’t be quenched, boughs that won’t shed]

 

oct 2020

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5 thoughts on “becoming”

  1. Dean English Dean English says:
    04/01/2021 at 6:32 am

    lots of push and grunt here, the base erotic, the briefly known, the depth of all beyond ‘the plane that glides the voided sky at Pisces. ‘

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    1. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:
      05/01/2021 at 9:06 pm

      thanks again, Dean

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  2. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:
    27/12/2020 at 10:01 pm

    thanks so much for these wonderful comments

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  3. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:
    25/12/2020 at 12:10 pm

    How sumptuously ‘dissociated’ as Sommer has commented.
    It strikes me how relentless human thought is, in reading the hammerings of these images one dashing against the other.

    ‘i’m not serious & you know & that makes me sad..’, of course, we know how ‘serious’ you are. Buon Natale, caro amico!

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  4. Sommer Cullingford Sommer Cullingford says:
    14/12/2020 at 12:28 pm

    I can’t really navigate the meaning of all this in the exact sense, but as poetry I can feel the tension in the consciousness stream, the sense of dissociation, that sumptuous imagery tinged with dissonance.

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