22 November 2010


Mate 11/20

I wrap the edges in tape to smooth the sharpness I drop it in the cool water and smooth it over the bearings and the tarnish is gold and brown and black with flares of blue and red and purple

I wrap the knuckles on my right hand in tape to hold the skin together and protect my joints from impact from heat from the grating flesh of metal I drop it in cool water and then into talc and then into air

I wrap the bed with layers of fabric a sheet another sheet a thick cotton blanket and then wool and feathers it goes yellow white red orange then open room sifting with late autumn light

I wrap the body in clothes for the day and the edges are uncovered and skin breaks open and the bed messes itself and the world drops into cool water as fog rolls across the bridge into downtown

And the city is a punching bag for the seasons and the light is breaking across your brow like water on a ship and I punch my hands into the earth until they are wrist deep

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