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of squamish
hearing’s marrow she says unsure whether the reminiscence of
the thought on her propreantepenultimate
anniversary of that randomly recurring reflection on an empty beach somewhere
west of habana with the scratched moped to the side like aborted tagliolini
tempestine rigati di sfoglia alla doppia ziti bucati corni under a putrescent
sun and with nothing of time’s lines but a slowly shifting eigengrau breach in
the sand from a limb fallen from a category 19 derecho hypercane around the
geographically distant demise of miss vyvyin m lizodoter of jeffvanderlou at
the dirty hands of chris oaks unction son of white male amerikan human
christian capitalist supremacists and a derelict and wretched god returns now
of all moments – or is it mallow? –
this tincture of inconvenience as he gestures toward the music faculty as if it
were some misplaced capacity for obscure syntheses of attributes exotonal, ecophagous
pads through the memories of the design of an rfid doorflap like a
donskoy on its way to stooped friendships, electromagnetic, gloomy, written
only if (but is this
italicized?) at all on texts in dreams of
marginally estranged siblings who once, loitering in the circumferences of
childhood, played to tinkles of lewd and liminally innocent joy
he doesn’t
hear her, he doesn’t hear like an ogdoadic safari and the attunements of a
strange semolina counter cult above vulnerable penguinaria soothe in a manner
not unlike the affects of pantry maid tiolla as she removes her apron before a
malvaceous mirror and under nothing but stratified squamous epithelium and
mammaries just moments prior forming a lush gorge around the member of a member
of congress, a member of congress. she likes it this way, his ears functioning
as decorations having as much utility as mavli during a nunavut ursus maritimus
attack though she sometimes – frequently on class iii saint days on the
liturgical calendar of the melanesian episcopalians when the eucharist’s sung –
takes his ear into her carrucho like a hermit crab and kneads it like a pearl
at statal spectacles where presidents and their requisites wraith in inane
protocol, extravagancies grieved, for what is speaking but nothing
comprehensible but an uncanny undressing on infinite deserts not of grains of
sand but ears, ears like his connecting not to any hearing but an evincing of gestures
to inconvenient faculties but says and i
say (and this saying with italics says)
marrow not for instance for any effect and this not just because i know it
won’t but more for what we might call a kind of equidistant irresistance, what alienoptera
might desist if hearing were another thing
he doesn’t
hear her, he doesn’t hear like an ecophagous motbot on its way to clubbing all
the cokebrains in the spothots, his gesturing to aural facultatem unlike what
she thinks not some autistic hapax cheiromenon but a forgotten spongebob
genuflex and he says i go south, i go
south and i do not stop and i do not go north and i ride the that which rolls
and i go south. but she feels he speaks more authentically of that time in uluvaän
when his ear stuckifies in yonder carrucho and doktor laura comes from lauwiliwilinukunukuʻoiʻoi
to chuffle the ninth disorder of prusten temps perdu coaching his
stuckification out with sanctæ snegdus papar tractatus sídhe tnugdali and bubbi
softness; it pops with great poppings and presto punctilium! her carrucho can hear
and this is a story we
know of her carrucho
opening less to his
nonhearing than its
hearing, less to any
listening of the
ear and more of the
conch
we migrate from configuration to configuration of
earlessness
on proprioceptive lysergic travolators mutter
to derealities of glom
sadoo would like to thank and does the 43human council
of squamish
(bella carrucho)
including its
head cockswain
baggage smasher
probate rep
field durmish
we particularly pritz out the
assistant nibling
for being such a frullip
