Material conjunctions, former lacquer mirrors to defend in an ermine rug, clay disguises over the faces. Brief meeting vanguard on paper, minute meetings, breech of survival. Running the proud coop meticulously, a courage proclamation to show callers what can be done on the move, with no help at all. White celluloid unseen in a pillowcase feels good between fingertips. Gently move it across the prints, relax the texture, tear off a piece hanging solo. Monster grips on something.
Don't lose it. I almost go to another piece, it wants to leave me, not stay it is a small piece of balance I dare not hope to keep for long. It doesn't work that way. I may be fooling myself into believing that is really what it is. Fortune masses seldom show up so uniformly. I find it not living up to me. Or maybe not down to what I am. Gravity pulls backward. Consciousness does too. Sometimes the reversal hurts me.
Lecherous faces creep up to me. Ball, plastic, pops, breaking, forming a mass of debris. Fly-nots attract venus as a cloth wrapper in the hilltop triumphs conducted just last Monday. A stew served, delicious carrots and potatoes together in a broth seasoned from beef liquids. The stew was free on the banquet table.
RIVER BED 77
copyright © 2017 d.jaffe - all rights reserved