WORK

Wallace
Cleans Their Ears
Obsessively

I caught a certain timbre, struck at two diametrically opposed points, ON A CERTAIN HEIGHT, which sent me from RESONANCE to RESONANCE, to another level where I snatched, in flight, several axes of suspension at the same time—PENDULUM WITH DIVERSE AMPLITUDES. 

Send Me Love Letters

so I could have them examined
by a graphologist

IN HOPES ONCE MORE OF COMING ACROSS THAT FISSURE WHERE THE SUN HAS penetrated YOU WITH ITS shadow AND FORGETFULNESS HAS insinuated ITSELF, infiltrated, WAKEFULNESS invading YOUR SLEEP, UNTIL YOUR MIND IS SUBMERGED; so you can sneak into this hole in your dazzled memory, first in search of a name whose sinuosities you’d marry . . . in order to become one in body with the calligraphy then finally grow drowsy in this word . . . and sleep—rest in peace—sleep     as far as     possible.

Yes, I am LACTOSE INTOLERANT.
        I Have No Patience for

                           LACTOSE.

And, I Won’t Stand for It.

EMPTY eyes

SENTIMENTAL
FLEA MARKET
THERE IT WAS POSSIBLE TO FIND USED LOSSES,
HAZARDS OF GOOD LUCK

a

hollowed-out husk of your former self 

tearing,
TEARING THE CLOTH OF A WHITE NOISE