Sous Rature






It is all the paperclips that are making me miserable.  It is you and it is that you are not me, it is you and that you are a they. How I never thought hickeys were erotic. Poetry is dangerous but not that dangerous. How the scary thing is you can't see your feet.  Not a complete salvation. That there is a logical explanation and that that is not the explanation. Having completely forgotten about the depths, silence, wishes.


The Switch is Behind the Drapes

Learning as a process of pretense. Tearing apart trash in disgust. Like braces, I never really wanted a piggy bank, but did. If you tattoo it that means its real. This blind atrophy.  Tautologies can help with a lot but not with this.  Having never learned how to write a good cover letter.  Everything we see is diaphanous clouds we turn into.  There is no longer anything red in this world. Maybe I have knowledge but I don't know how to hold it properly.  The presumption of innocence saves some of us.  What he said about narcissism and the gutter. Pregunto. We eat our power. There is nothing that can be done. 



We are made up of grey folds.  Black nail polish's difficulty. That which is baked in corn oil. Stigmatas that go unnoticed. I can't stop counting things. On one side of this wall, eyeballs everywhere. Clandestine "among." Both divides into many. There is no more batter left. I shouldn't meddle with facts. Everywhere I want to go there are trees standing in my way. I want to go beyond what is knowable, but I can't even have you. I mean "if." All the receipts have been lost. If I could just find the edge, I would know where I am.  Kaleidoscopes are not metaphors.




















Carrie Hunter