u r n

deterritorializae your 'sinthome' yer air
& whirr tail bone canter on yer partita kick the 'super-ego' she
hover desire machining it
transcriptural probability

my telephone is your telephone

telephone to my typewrit

Yesterday's November 11 . Dostoyevsky and Kurt Vonnegut were born... were you ...? was it the hour of your time, baby dropped in the world 's becoming bethlehem, blooming the kissing earth of its piece...? Where's your dictaphone... you come here seeing a birthday, that was wondering your crowd ... did you walk over, to the window, cambering, its thought, by the willow of your hair, imagining his hand, around your caress? complicating the hour, with its thought, seeing your breast lifting, was it that time, Crime and Punishment,4 years in the gallow of solitude , not alone, ever a moment, 5 years, writes a letter, dear Brother, do you know, he was crying to me,, in his sleep, his head ___, and you wonder its near the time , for baiting, curt cutting across ties, making the hip weak lame