El Egg

XII. Double Gallery






The solids swerve and twist like taffy.

The rails you ride crisscross the perimeter.

The circumference confronts itself.

Standings, soundings, surroundings.

Not a tummy tuck, but a stomach fold.

As a lizard dodges over the deck, the effect is so

slippery because the connection is so tight.

Maneuvering over the radio dial hectically

what persists is the hiss of the dialectic. Between

poles. The leopard remains snug in the air-lock.

Stonewalling lapidaries. Marbleized capillaries.

What triggers aggression? The story of capitalism

from cocoon to tycoon. Innocence closed-off

and playing in the background like a laugh track

to a cancelled sitcom. Decompression --

where comprehension comes to decompose.

Compacted layers of scotch tape flick off

like sheets of mica under a fingernail. Do you prefer

to serve the shrunken head of accumulated knowledges

as an entrée, or to deglaze the leavings?

I would prefer not to knot the strings

up into a product. The fungibility of the disfigured.




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