Archive for September 15th, 2013

By Peter Marra

an audience noticed the birth and the splices
as funny as her brain
as amusing as the trials that she lives for

a one-handed scream
like they taught in the criminal schools
with lessons of using your eyes
with lessons of telling lies for fucking

you’re a camera
and you should walk away from the manifesto
her pitch black eyes fight it’s
a spectacle descending
you’ve given me “film grammar”

she responded to maintain a want
happy to realize that the sun was none
but out there were such slick sounds
sucking up the silence
splicing faces
intercut sounds
literally translated, as a pedestal burning
choosing obscurity

she folded up the tripod and went away
on the next train
to the next town
“i screamed with me,” she said
she relaxed

“wow, the bodies really heaved up
it’s a natural color for america
eschewing bourgeois concerns.
he pulls out, what’s going on?”

she grabbed it, interpretations of
conceptual films
by a would-be film director
a prisoner of stop-motion

as she snorted and spewed forth pain
they spoke of camera positions from1894
as the breathing increased at a faster rate,

the arms have been removed
dusty springfield had an answer
blonde redemption behind the cracked building

a flickerfree duplex
a patent leather shrine to the home of her childhood
wanting to display her legs,
she lifted her skirt to the breeze
exposed her lips in a swirl
and celebrated by herself
by dreaming of her new tattoo
and a subsequent brand
that she would receive soon
by herself for herself
it was small for a commercial film theater

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