Thursday, January 6, 2011

pg. 82 | Fetish Systems

I want to take my camera and leave here for a while,
I want to accidentally drop my phone and step on it, then
instinctively, elephant stampedes – wild horny elephants –
run towards me, their tusks penetrate the air around me,
fertilize it into wind – elephant stampedes, grey flat feet
munch pieces of the ground, plunge in resonance with this
frequency of self – to step on my phone, for I do not want
to talk to people, and other things – including you. I need
to – now – get lost, with my camera, where we would only
talk of clutches with ticks, I would press its hulk, sweat on
it, then wipe the lens blur with my shorts – shorts I would
take off – alone with my camera – and whatever we do,
stays within my focal, its focal, whatever we do, is mine and
its own – whatever is almost nothing, in my inside, where
nothing synonyms everything.


sho said...
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sho said...

I'm very sad to inform you that the elephant's feet are like gigantic cushion - softer than mono's bedroom pillow. When elephants walk, the tones of kilos they have only leaves a hint of a footprint on the ground... they would not harm your cellphone the way you wished...
I know elephants are cuter but you can replace them with big, thick haired, buffalo bulls... those are true enders of life cycles.