ping, white(floury)body/fol
ded hammock: bottles and
moped trim and

a.voca.do.stones bed.load against
the run-off; back streeam, wasterfall
sweat trickle down a stomach/child/blea
ched/buddha squatting over a long drop; sweat
trickle through the overfill/upper-
course though the landflow: twin bed frame/splintered
escarpment to a hand
s.hake/prost.rate//a st.ranger
a mother
by the bald-tyre

       /the inner-tube self
       bursts in the heat on a fragment of broken lightbulb

buddha dangles from a baobab tree:
stomach swelling against a mosquito net; in the ebb at the
near side,

           slip from avocado skin into a
rubbishy waterbirth. 
Last edited by doubtfulsalmon at Apr 20, 2015,
this is so nice. your writing gets weirder and weirder (in a good way!). the tact you assert is really impressive. maybe some of the word choice could be chiseled up in the first stanza and made a bit more precise, sometimes the control you exhibit in the latter parts of the piece were absent in the beginning.

nice though! thanks for posting.
I love this. I haven't been around for like a year and this is the poem I read first and now I feel as though my expectations are too high to read another.

The brilliance! I love your effects with the periods. "a.voca.do.stones" and "st.ranger" were my particular favorites.

I dont know if I will ever understand your writing style, doubtfulsalmon and I love it.
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

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