Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Annie Grizzle, Co-d


Transmogrify, image by Sandra Boskamp  




Co-d


Machine bug. Only datas fly. Computer hit face and face hit
window. I sit in the window. My cat is sick. I put the nectarines
in a paper bag three days ago. The nectarines aren’t two days
ago. I put the nectarines in a bag ripe. The cat is free lime. There
is no because I haven’t this summer. From Milwaukee or
Baltimore. I forgot to electrodes or dead lava. I am pail mad. I
started being sober three months ago. I put vodka in my drink a
week ago.

I’ve decided not to count that I put vodka in my drink a week
ago. I don’t ponder death. I made talk for grapefruit aid if only
but cry yet. I won’t and I don’t want to. The figures found asleep
 are my grandmother. I dreamt I made trinity. I dreamt the test is
what ended it. I like my new roommates. My job is fine to go to.
I am forgiven. Gave name tag as acceptable cash planet.

The IRS is after me. They won’t buy my poems. My cat is sick. I
can’t eat electric bike more. Too much color. Fish kill why is
dark out. I hate you. You hurt me. Two more eggs than. It wasn’t
worth it. Head split sideway farm. Fuck you I should quit face
cloth. I am two helmets. Front door stomach war but for
yesterday. Plastic tone. No cuts. Deep bruising. Nectarines.

Meat ate. For sweat from bush teal compost. It wasn’t worth it.
Shingle belly. There are bigger wastings they said once, why I
am thought on you. I think I have too much free time. I’m circle
for it. Deep gut burn for false start. Looser for addiction I find it.

Staggering. I hate you. I want you expose. You think I low bow.
You think I’m foot mush. Maybe I do want. I’ve never been
here. Bus for six hours. I miss hard. I still have your skateboard.
It was always platonic. Two snout trough magnet. I am co-d. Sift
pressure and for lip cup if for or else. You didn’t ask me to wild
bark, sweet tongue.

To make tender, to see the ocean of it? Dry purpose across a
landscape. How sound names it, my fascinating slu,p. It crawls
down your throat. My very own mucus.

All dead. The IRS is after me. Oxygen luxury now. Chest bank.
What happy crowd. So may many find comfort in blue throat. I
want you expose. You think I low bow. You think I’m foot
mush. My cat is sick.


It’s been four days and I’ve softened
But I cannot soften to you

I attempt control by being the nice one
Everything is calculated


I forgot I was an animal.



—Annie Grizzle


No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.