DUTCH HARBOR, ALASKA
A poem by Wolf Larsen
You watch as thousands of ceiling people begin cutting your body up into dinner pieces (like the thunderstorm inside your living room)? So you write disintegrating sculptures obsessing on the page, it’s like a thousand splintering-avalanching-canneries drinking your body every second…
Each word is a hungry knife disordering the English language, each word is a spontaneous grave digger, every phrase is a cemetery waiting for my readers
Every moment is dread, every white molecule is exhaustion and regret - the shrieking canneries alive under a crashing galaxy fighting with the mountains and clouds, every night is a huge black lushness surrounded by incest, ignorance is a constant tidal wave poised over the small ridiculous town - every mirror is timeless despair, every day is ruin
So I begin this poem by eating the kitchen sink and drinking alarm clocks, so I begin the poem inside your convulsing memories. . . sculptures?
Copyright 2004 by Wolf Larsen
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