The pillows, which were piled every which way on the floor, were covered, upon inspection, with faint piles of grains. Careful lab analysis revealed semen stains covering every inch of every surface (scant two mm’s between, at most). I put two fingers to my head—faint piles of knocking agony—another’s limbs—the windows extended into slits of gold, the rain drained wearily away. Our bladders clenched like fists. Japanese mountains of fog rising from toilets and sinks. Hissing heard mazing from the high vents. The man came in and cried “bust” in the open studio...pumps of yellow glitter ground. I saw...a little hut on the outskirts of town. I found with my father the bodies of two dead, a husband and wife, I said. They had been dead two days, I said. Here and there, and pinned to the wall maps with pen traces. Folded napkins, memoranda. And through the window I saw a mountain. My father pulled their robes together where they showed, a cup of breast, a ****. Careful lab analysis revealed semen stains covering every inch of every surface. I put two fingers to my head—aromatic wreathes of sawdust. Just blew dust in the restroom prior to this period. Saw use resulted, was required for credit. Next door some friends—I heard—they waxed the bows of their fiddles with rosin. Rosewood sawdust, and mahogany. My girlfriends and I gathered around, we held brushes as one to a turpentine jar. Tubes of paint added to cloudy jars of paste, added flat vistas for caustic skies. As we blew dust the mirrors were clouded. Our pried skies right outside, in the sky (she laughs). A new... I knew a record store. I lost a finger and a half and was bleeding on my jumper. The teacher (she laughs) was chloroformed between my legs. And above the record store were the pillows, see.
-2002
