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Ink Fat

Ink Fat

 

Maria Morisot

 

Published by Moan Lisa Press

 

Copyright © Maria Morisot 2015

 

Furniture wrapped

with plastic linings

like the sun

on an ordinary day;

 

See-through fealities

and swears not

sure to

cover in the

perimeter of

your dirty love.

 

Piecemeal propagandist

excited about the

bath, about

the carried over

smells of

the right to

bear arms, to

bare legs;

to buy the

lithium to

keep me stable

and secure.

 

Nurtured forceps,

bringing baby. Featured

dental appraisal;

spinning photo-

synthesis parade. here’s

my collagen; this is

the only marker

to come

home to

 

Pair of lights

dangling; and

dressing the day

at the midriff;

 

Alimony sunshot,

a turquoise shade

of periodical

enlightenment;

all for one,

the chalk tower

chimes. Before

it crumbles.

 

Parametric equat

+

 

Fixed perpendicular planes

gathering sunlight,

feeling the waters for

an un earthed

radiation point.

 

Blow the spasmodic

equation past

the melting point,

trans ended pyrolights

flipping caution’s

entryway into disrepair.

 

You don’t

need me to

tell you

that there’s nothing

to be had

on this

green Earth.

 

Experience will paint

a picture of

Dorian Gray.

 

A grammatical error

spoken to

the darkness of

a world

past tense;

 

Flooding the night

with principles

of mathematics and

obfuscated surrealism;

 

Only in this

swelling bliss

can one see

the threads

of continuity;

 

Taking measure

and overlapping

with the serial

surveillancing

of the stars.

 

Visible innuendos

pinned to cork-

board, viable clichés

counted as beads,

whose trickle-

down

economic systems

have been

scratched

 

Like old records

playing headlines

of the news, times

past.

 

It figures

to be of

state-

wide support

Roman candles;

 

Puritanical sunset

delivered through

an embalming of

block-ice.

 

Parenthetical laughter,

the kind which

degenerates over time;

 

Partial differentials,

smoking hot glass,

alienated toy trains

feeling lonely;

 

It was my

first kiss,

an ovulating

sunset; wrapped

in styrofoam,

melted onto

paraffin wax.

 

Meandering; you leave

my thoughts

walking through the

pages of a torn up book

 

And every septum

shall know

His glory; and

even the angels cry

 

I’m on board

this train,

lightening

the textual

conversations in

my mind;

 

You have

nothing to fear,

even death;

 

For when the

brother spells

your name in

black glass,

there will be

motions to

you to take

out the Sunday trash.

 

Niche compression;

populated skin, with

earth bound travelers;

corporate dust

settling on

the ocean’s

chamber walls;

 

Rap, rap, rap.

 

There is no gentleness

or caring caress

marked upon

that chamber door;

 

To drive, in overdrive;

through Paris on the

eighth of May;

settling for the

core corruption’s

stack of unadministered

vaccinations;

 

This may be war,

but where were

we before, the

atomic ticking

of a scattered

particle or two?

 

Steep the

catalogue

in mother’s

milk; I saw

 

Her hurting

and anaes-

thetized

 

For gratuitous

surrender

of faith

incompre-

hensible

derision

 

Four story

slight POV;

sticking

our noses

out for Mary,

 

Mother, may I

culminate in

the clustering

of static seas

pertaining to

my transparency?

 

The means by which

we have inherited

fell through sound

 

A disruption

of energy’s coerced,

receptive pathways;

maybe here, in pink;

baby’s here, in pink;

 

Haven’t you

coalesced

the time span

between worlds

unborn

and stars

past their

bloody

expiration

dates.

 

Heaven’s past-

tense megaphone

and the black homeless

prisoner, drying his

eyes in a carpet

wet with muddied

fingerprints;

 

Left on the calendar

of yesterday’s emotional

crackpot Creationism.

 

Chains, linked assemblages

of pain and

necessity worn

as two distinct

colors on my crown

 

Patience swings her

fist at me,

while virtue

has other ideas;

 

Stave it off,

swear and secrete

dint duty’s

repeating

systematic decline

so soothing,

and mine;

 

While the last

lines play out

in medium;

 

‘J’ becomes a

fascination

to me, to

my ovulating

science, to

my world.

 

Choreograffiti; the

plantain nature of our

existence. Curiosity

killed him

and we can’t

go back

in time to

make him mine

 

Against the wailing

eyes performing lobotomies

 

Truthful incoherent

mumblings of ranch

dressing, dressing

 

How I met

your digital

avatar; this

is how I

met your

digital

form.

 

Silver spoons

and hot dog stands;

the kinds

of things that

make me

glad I’m not

alone;

 

With what

we’ve entered

when we wound

around the pitiful

excuses of our

neighbors, with

what we’ve entered

into logic—

 

Key presses

and damned

assignments,

chilling fortunes

for what my

future bears;

 

Cream persona,

white light;

marvel at

her revolution.

 

Her Vader helm,

her Vader voice;

 

Her obstinate recovery syndrome

speech impediment voice-over

last night’s water well

succumbing to sleep

 

Pinch pot regulations,

squared away principles

of mathematical response

swinging us from bough

to branch to

 

Pewter.

 

Gray light projected

on a matte

evergray interior;

so illusive, so

productivity costs

and penchants

persuade me to

forego the dust

upon my inner thighs.

 

What sweet taste

is left

when I have

suckled from

the imprint of

your mind;

 

Red devouring

blue, as I

can only

keep the better

half of

anyone’s perimeter

 

Fucking dare

you to bleed

and cry

against the

swastika machine

 

Romance and

hetero-

sexual

encounters be

damned

 

This is my foot;

the oxymoron

of my supposed

education.


Ink Fat

  • ISBN: 9781310075681
  • Author: Maria Morisot
  • Published: 2016-04-16 12:20:08
  • Words: 842
Ink Fat Ink Fat