David Brennan
from Angel Sex
Sore at the knees, kneeling
The length of the dulcet
Rain-spelled afternoon
Delinquent in its misery,
The fuzzy line between film
And the theorist’s projectability,
It is easy to know that you should,
Love, how is the other question,
I open my mouth to your doubt,
You still gloz for me, there’s only
Melody where the itch is,
The perfect music a solemn music
Is broken, may we hear it again,
You sneeze in the kitchen, I give no blessing
Esprit is for us a difference,
Time the image of our morality,
Perfection amputates the limbs
no matter how loudly we clamour
For magic in our lives
Happiness is left a torso
Don’t you dream of nothing
In the way of it, the great transparency
Tendonless, skinless, the bloodless blush
Repeating through and through
from Alex Taking Pictures
What is the last note
of the first music?
The alphabet.
The programmer’s code.
As if before the apple and orange is the exactitude,
the tea break with biscuits.
Mission statement: to light a fire
under the drone orangutan.
If it burns, it can be built.
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