Clothes hoist. They can’t stop every time it gets windy or they’ll never finish the job. Don’t disturb Papa. He’ll rage out of the room and throw darts at us. I wish we had never given him that dartboard as a present—it doesn’t matter how professional grade a set it is. We’re the ones who have been the targets of those darts. Look at that welt on your temple—it still looks angry as hell…
A kind of ode to money for which the widower shines. I’ve been drinking and my alexandrines are sleek by the dozen, she said. Here, look, a whole armada of alexandrines. For food I had guayaba and queso blanco—the breakfast of conquistadors with too much time on their hands, and hairs on their hides. We’ve run out of auto-da-fe candidates, he says. Go bugger yourself, she says. Do you just live beyond quotation marks now?
i live beyond grammar and orthography she said
rules are for rabbits dont u know
and philology is the is valium for the gods
i will go on as i wish making myself seen and heard by the dusty corner of our southwest wall
i become unmoored
an a syntacticle mispeleing fer pleashur n shur to pleace no von
im a lower case werd person with nuthin 2 loos
¿Que tu dices?
“Paternal authority is, of all authorities, the one most inimical to poetry.”
— Noémi Lefebvre / Poetics of Work