Saturday, October 28, 2006

THE FUCK ARE BUTTERFLIES

Truth is desire / there, I said it / as if the cost of admitting

something was something / geographic, like a tiny / blinking bug

made of ideas a spy / adhered to you / All knowledge brings up

new problems / All knowledge brings up is new

problems, but that’s exactly / what we are / desiring, there

I said something adhesive / a body that always

thought it was the consequence / of an image / And finally, here

we are coincident / trysting in a flare / of flesh / You

called while I was riding / the F for the first / time in weeks, too

dark to make out / the graffiti / I wrote my name on

a beige building wall / and it became a thing again / I say there

are butterflies / in my stomach / You say what

the fuck are butterflies / doing in your stomach?

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