Academic journal article Chicago Review

Cold Fulguration

Academic journal article Chicago Review

Cold Fulguration

Article excerpt

All of this said, short and dated,

insistent, presence simply ripened.

Such lucre trampled into light doubly-amazed,

yearly,

looped to a cord, the wings of evening,

make their foam in another higher cavern,

such wings of evening, evening of evening.

I am simply present for a history of ripening

printed black, printed shortly.

With discretion, captured in rapture, in magazines, in butter,

its odour of a photograph of the sea without suffering.

In this way, captured doubly with a branch of flowers,

of family, printed rock with a feminine tulip,

doubly lost in the atmosphere, visibly wilting,

it is denied the shore of another diurnal turn

in time, this verb in the ear of a deeper cavern,

presence ripened in history and in historial.

From the radius of this depth my pulse is stronger,

with the pomp of a short laser curling explosions

and multiplied basically and dogs in such a prayer

gone electric at the mouth's entrance, this laser

utterly nocturnal,

with acumen, doubling my year of exile. …

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