Written by Ike Eisenhower on December 22, 2012
Arranged by Jayinee Basu on December 24, 2012
Published in Issue 004
: You, cut off, hadn't even half-brothers!
(A barge gate, a fence rind)
: You longed and shorted.
(The wrinkles closed like blessed sutures)
: The world is not long.
: For politeness, a terminal of cane.
: His tear in your jerk. His plastic cane lodged in your doorjamb.
: I told you never to come round here again.
(Remiss in excess)
: Domesticated elision we faked and folded.
: Go there?
: Go here and you baked in hairtearing efflorescence!
: I nutmegged a halfablock of vegetating echoes.
(Blonde comes over the ridge wiggling the black off the bark)
: You ready brother, ready?
: You beat the concerto right out.
: Of? Brother! You sister, huh?
: Hear me.
: You hear me.
(Broken speaker anonymous leaking gutter)
: Whiteness—not alone.
(Hung high, nailed dark wooden Indian waves)
: Turn Jimmy back on.
: I'll rent you, mother dagger.
: Watts linkage leaking rods on corn.
(Eyes held at half-mast to witness)
To waste pissed from the swing and totaled the street. Go hard of hearing. They list no further rings.
(Worsted wool, bested friar)
: A gallery full of running ripe dremels and some bitch in a wheelbarrow.
: Calculating averages, a gullible suspension dispels with harmonics.
: I mean pockets.
: A soul note unfolding.
(His hot cum hydrolastic blowout)
Strummed shock tower, a spun bearing a grease stall.
: You wanted you.
: Thought strike a match.
(Match and turn the hose on)
: Your adding machine...
: Go home and retool.
At the dairy fields of beaker pulp a broken asshole foraging for.