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Tattoos Of Delirium
Neither a circle nor an endless returning, but a tiny spark filled
with black space and light years. I regard her that way, through a
keyhole that approaches a chamber of distraction.
I come into view when she fades, and then the obvious reversal.
She imagines a device, no, a gesture, an invisible act that combines
the both of neither. Wet and slippery as a dream, playing out each
ambiguous entrance in view of strangers.
Faces coming so close, to pass through each other, scarred but
undamaged. The bodies are numerous, seamarks, tearing consciousness
on the shore...
“I love you”, she thinks, “I will mark you...”
while the moment in between signals a deeper entrance into Mayan
symbols, animal hunger, evenings that scroll downwards to a place to
sign your name, your possible X...
J Karl Bogartte (2012)
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