A sliver of window: cold nouns (poor nouns!)
licking eyes until white and soiled.

I bubble over unexpectantly.
A silver of pillage: the very core
of gesture ruts with morning
depression; concave like logic, I

bundle up expressively. My country
colonizing. See those motion-sick
colors bloodying dirty eyes? My
country in winter turns to murder.

I turn to computer, soft and warm.
Handfuls of pelt-flesh smother
my face in voice recognition. I

think over and under it. Lovely people:

cold nuns (poor nouns!) in space.

2003/02/07 07:29:43




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http://www.lewislacook.com/
NEW! Zoosemiotics http://www.lewislacook.com/zoosemiotics
ARCADIA: long poem serialized in the muse apprentice guild: http://www.muse-apprentice-guild.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html


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