by Brian McCloskey
Perfume has no gender. Uncover the nakedness of an unknown body in the fields of blue. It's the sparkle you become when you conquer anxiety. The river felt she wanted salt. Roll my vertebrae out like dice. Only I wondered if I threw out my shaving water. I am the bastard naked before the bitch. She writes foot fortunes money times over in the nursery dust with her capital thumb. She astonished reporters with that remark. A buttonhole for Sputnik. After their battle thy fair bosom. I could easily have gone out with a nail at sunset. There's no sabbath for nomads. Never slip the silver key through your gate of golden age. Pass the fish for Christ's sake! The moon is very important to me. How hopeful pigs are. The dress is great with delicate shoes and tights for weddings. If I start to fish, something is wrong. Peeling the nylon from the layer of sweat on our legs. The overgrown moss looks incredible! Pick up the cloak and go! Each rock electric as a brain. Sleep is water. Kissing pebbles, visiting your veins, telling you mythologies. Her frozen steps will melt beyond definition. She wakes to a mouthful of husbands. A myth is a lie breathed through silver. They are a sliver of light within the atlas of time. I have to remind myself it’s beautiful. They're not just for warmth anymore.