The modesty of caramel – burned, earthy
& smashed against my wanton mouth in stickled
smudges – make a meal of my gushing brains, take
my faith as fallen & my delicate curls
unshaven. Pimp your pickles with my bluish
pelvis. I crook myself upon you, dribbling
with an anorexic urgency, and I don’t see
your workload lightening beneath the crusted
halo of your charm, cowboy, so knuckle down.
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2 comments:
Sophie,
hello, I want to preface my comment by saying that I really enjoyed a. Your language is both tangible and haunting in the book. And, from what I've seen here it's no phase.
I'm actually sort of excited that I found your blog and I hope you don't mind if I come back for an occasional taste.
I also wanted to let you know that I and a few of my MFA candidate peers are presenting a to our class next week. I'm personally focusing on the influence Stein has in your work. I hope this is flattering and not terrifying.
-A
I apologize, this is the only way I've found to contact you, and I hope it's not rude or an invasion. I just saw the chance to say hi, and had to take it.
you are master in shuffle right. can you explain what is shuffle to you?
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