Sunday, January 17, 2010 at 4:33 PM
John M. Bennett




my boOrn casTer l’ame my ouch

log ——— or bent the cOmb ra)labpst

book(  was/////tum//bling an the

assssshes fleww : :  :   :    :     :    ah

air was grey insects * * * fa\\ing f

rom thye sky my stone saiiiled aw

aaay na ym gol saw gniliob gnillliob

)runn a head an think  k   k    k     k       k





Getting Up


rept dingle ,low the throUUUne

where I stubBle at the caved-in //\\

gates a bubble brises from my

bmouth o gassy ππππ gaazzing at

the high sh∆arp mist I should sleee

p beneath the carr I should mouldd

my skkull I should filll my pannts

with stones ººººoo and stutter in my

suiit Π the claw stackers clacking th

ere and I riisse and grisstle for

the staairs  ):(

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