Tuesday

Foucault's Suicide

Jill got home one night. One knight among many, AMong many multifarities multitudinous murders as in Macbeth I am thy daughter's sheet. Not ghost silly. She saw that Orpheus was telling tales again again as in riverruns past bend of wake by pluralities of faces and depths ofdivers. She was a having a love-affair arrears in affairs of wakes of aknight. In infinite faith of oriental delicate body on the metro. and Other K places. So it was. Orpheus was makin' more stories and narrativesthan you could count on the fingers of your toe-nails and emails andshe-males and boy gals such as her body was. She hada body sometimes andit was nice. She had a pregnant girl she was in love and in love with inlove and in love and love. It was like Glorious and traced down all herlipstick slides around traced girls thought and thighs. So she found atext that said I am Clare Parnetti I am the climax of love and sorrow andI am th e smoking lungs in the light I am the silver dwarf of bendedthought I am the face one next to your text. She was sometimes good atgetting back many moon and week later it was like that she was the onewith Mona who hot-wired the text. So like a puffed cheek she was and itwas magic Theatre Mirror and factories of connections and bodies andhands between. The sheets and skirt of frilled underthings and scallopeddesigned skirts that swirl in the spring winds of rain on the tip of herlips and tongue and pushed then shovelled it was against the rip ofmatter in the canvas and she was the one____________________