Thursday, December 29, 2005

Kyle Kaufman

exiled by the queen,
makes good, tends a garden.

if he doesn’t, a we
kill him.

is it the same fire that burns here?

i can’t say where this is going. i can say that it comes. i can say “swamp” and “hillock”
and “USB.” i can tell of flux and flukes and of fire-dousers, heroes who came just as the
police exited all the screens, Rodney Kings. throwing it out. maybe there’s a catch.

fuck it. i instant
text msg double reality
tv show dream vacation
final contestant next week
on lettermen dare u

with age
and improper
care a
lead battery
on a sur
ill-suit ed
to play


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