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CR Mar 2014
watch watch watched
me, watch you, watched your skin turn young again
the night change to early stories lost in
fall grass, august-headed unseasonable warm
and orange, and rose, and daisy-chain

watch your skin turn young again
in summer, not summer anymore but still
something that looks
a little like summer
windows ajar and knuckles *****, cracked
and red with god and icy providence
your skin, so young so genius so young
again

I knew your laugh one april I’d
forgotten it by may and I
remembered
forgot
remembered in june
your pulse in my eardrums when I
found your chest here and when it was in the city
me, under a blanket
in a time warp
in the metropolitan area but not
close
enough

san francisco wouldn’t have me like boston
lusted after lusted after lustedafteryou
bridges held by strings lusted after you
tonight, and that night, and the halves of all of our nights
that I didn’t see, all those mouths
hands
blue-green beds lusted after you
a different end oh oh
oh, I saw it coming

that warm thing that salty distance thing, sometimes
that’s why you leave that’s why
anybody leaves
winemouths, unrecollections
mouths sour
oh that’s why honey
anybody leaves

autumn heaven gave way to the winter couch
chests by necessity warm with the
warm beats of memory
multiples of seven on the parting finish parting palms
on leather
leather and a refuge fantasy
nineteen
or twenty

the shoulders of a soldier of the soldier of the soldier
that you should have could have been—

dreams and cheeks ready came, after
pulling blood and fingers and sons through slowthinking hips
sharp with the thought of your laugh and lips
broken record touched
sorry
sorry
sorrysorrysorry I’m
so
sorry—

can you remember?
the rains are a little alive the
living rains are a little memory of the
little sweet high
the little clocks
barely
waiting underneath the ghost of the second afternoon train

my bones were fragile in january are fragile in january please
keep touches brief keep touches soft keep touches to the city
only in the camera lens keep touches to the curtains to the kitchen to the
hy-
po-
the-
tic—
don’t make me give it a name
just be my brother don’t
let me give it a name
(four
ever
forever
sunset
stop me)

goodbye was to be navy and floor-grazing and in my own
words. that evening you were to buy me flowers for the first time
despite how adamantly I didn’t ever want flowers for those months
you were to know I was wrong that last time
I was to smile at you and cry in the bathroom for the knowing that was
it

but evening walked too quickly and spoke hell
the language not the word, my language not your word
I only understood the skyline
you only understood numbers
let’s make a deal, you said, as the sunshine made its last orange address

let’s make a deal, I agreed.

stumbling like sugar like horses like homeless like
muscles literature-fixed and all brown-bricks
grandiose and unready. grandiose and unready.
grand. ready. no—

so—

stumbling through the seasons through the ceilings we became a mid-march anachronism
nothing to lose
nothing to lose
nothing-to-lose
nothing
nothing to
lose

nothing

can we just stay till the dawn
it’ll be fun we’ll be fun we’ll have fun you’re fun
taste the minutes melt like rock sugar
watch the dust pillow from the middle
only human
fingertips feel the shakeshake and the desperate tears
in fabric

honey pearls
tiger hearts
scratch-blind highway floods
mad july
that july

where were you
where are you

and where am I
TreadingWater Jan 2016
don't get me wrong//it's nice to be wanted
and you are so. much. prettier. than. most.
but i'm onlyhalflistening, l ov e
my chest is chain》ed》 to 》a 》ghost

my mind knows-so-much-better
         {i'm so lucky to have you}
your hands know how to hold me
         {your lips know all the songs}
but i when i'm looking in your {brown}eyes;
it's only g.r.e.e.n.         that i see

and i-swear-if-i-knew-how-to-fight-it
i'd go ****** //i'd go black and blue
if o n l y.   I  could sh^a^ke^ her
{if i could un _ . think all the words}
i'd give all i have just to savor

i long to taste anything
....that i didn't com》pare to her lips
my God howhermouthhaunts
{i can't think ₩ithout her voice^in^my^head}
i'm helpless and unworthy-of-all-your-wants

you. are. so. lovely.
in so {allofthe} many ways
i have enjoyed our mo^ment^s
{i have hoped these feelings would
....leave me}
how i have kept you;... on. the. fence.

and now; it'sonlyfair to s/ev//er
despite how good; i-should-let-you-go
it's a  @selfish@ way of living
{letting you love me so}
When i'm Not ReaLLy Giving

in these moments you'll hate me
{onceyouknowallofthetruth}
think of me in spiteful ways
you'll want to _ keep _ trying
you'll be con\vinc\ed it can be °changed

beaUtiful one: YoU de _ serve MORe
theressomethingaboutthegirl i can't name
maybe I'm just addicted-to-wanting
Or may》be i'm not ready to be save---d
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
i was going to write about how
i made kolhapuri masala for a curry i made...
and how i forgot one ingredient
when writing about it
and how i solved a sudoku puzzle to remind
me of it...
and something about...
   the men-yoroi...
               and details of a dream...
             but why detail all of that?
     after all... i reserve the content of dreams
for myself...
i dream so rarely: i rarely have a chance
to ponder them...
i hear about elaborate labyrinths of
dream-walkers... and those people who
have recurrent dreams...
  part envy part: ******* idiots...
reflex not working... hell with a knee ****...
the entire knee is missing!
dream-walkers: ghost-limb extensions
that some make a summary of: brain's ditto:
ergo tweet!
otherwise the real deal...
      the idea came with... a book...
not just any book...
the romford public library can blush...
picked it up in edinburgh...
sold at £28-        the cheapest online? £60!
well... itch... itch... behave... behave...
it's not a shoe... or a pair! ha ha!

it's just a first edition... 1985...
   the anatomy of madness: volume 1 -
people and ideas ed. by w. f. bynum, roy porter etc.
    tavistock publications
         for more information...
please write to: 11 new fetter lane
                            EC4P 4EE...
    east(ern)-central... believe me... no city in england
is given a NW... or a SW... the greenwich
treatment of... far far away in
the "honk honk hanging with kong"
or... whatever that sort of postcode is...
i would say anything with E17 is probably
Warsaw or Berlin... and hardly walthamstow...

if you're looking for the centre of the earth...
otherwise please write to:
      29 west 35th street
                           NY 10001...

sometimes it's just necessary to hit a plank
of wood with a spandex whip...
or... bop around seemingly on the verge of
drowning and misguide a bottled message...
or... droll! what's a droll?
curious or unusual in a way
      that provokes dry amusement;
yes... hardly a doll.

might as well start calling it...
Dickensian out-of-vogue: vogue etymological
revival of... the victorian lexicon...
being heavily influenced by...
the attire of the empire being...
that of saving the myth of rome...
with... good manners... b.d.s.m. ******
parameters and... brandy drank...
with some water...
like... a frenchman would clean his palette
when drinking an espresso...

the essay in mind?
        w. f. bynum & michael never:
   hamlet on the couch...

well so much for english jurisprudence:
due process, innocent until proven guilty...
and all that "jazz"...
not under the flimsy / quasi-hippocratic
"oath"... machado de assis: the alienist...
you are always to be presumed mad:
you have to be presumed sick...
before you can be well...
it's not like you are ever to be well...
otherwise: how does a psychiatric logic
work? yes... all those "metaphysical"
conundrums...

     point being: my new discovery
of my rekindled ability to dream... is my new ****...
my new privacy...
how does hamlet on a couch matter?
how about... dickens in an armchair?
this is my alternative "doodle"...
if a shakespearean character is lying
on the couch...
what am i to do? in passing "listen"...
but doing nothing of the sort...
instead... reading some dickens...
and... having to finally...
succumb the victorian common colloquial...
i.e. of words: directly derived: etymologically
from latin - and loaned into english...
oh no... no romance concerning
Charlemagne, the vikings, the saxons...
the swabians or the dutch or the french...
what victorian england spoke:
having this phonetic encoding...
less and less imperium romanus and more
and more giuseppe belli sonnet slang...

cappuccino!
        e jjeerzera me diede un'antra stretta
    (last night she made me have another fit).
credi che ffussi uno scorpione? eh ggiusto!
era un pizzo d'un osso-de-bbaleno,
che jj'ussciva cqui ggiu ffora der busto.
    (you really think it was a scorpion?
yeah right, and not the piece of whale bone
which stuck our of the corset that she wore)...

so much for ancient rome...
so much so for victorian england...
what would you call it these-days...
if you started calling "it" a... 'lard-buff'?
    
as far as i am concerned: psychiatry is a branch
of "medicine"... or rather...
medicine has a tenctacle that reaches into
the parts of hades that only wriggling worms
get to chew on...
and at that: you're not presumed innocent...
you can't me... adverse logic:
you have to be sick... therefore guilty...
and how did ever... this loophole escape
the grand justices of the crown?
people pleaded insane: therefore guilty...
but thereby somehow exempt...
it's a satanic laugh i tell you...
                      no other... no less...
                  
                      you can't plead a case of law
when facing an antithesis copernican plea
of now standing up-side down in
australia: or the black swan...
or if caging a wallaby will ever bring you aid...

under english law: you are innocent...
until proven guilty...
under an extension of the hippocratic
oath within the realm of:
practice of psychiatry in england:
you are sick... until cured...
                 never can you be semi-well...
and therefore treated...
and by being treated... chances of you
making a recovery? ha ha...
chances of you becoming a spider
in a web designed by learned men...
lost in prefixes and suffixes and other sort
of ******* of rubric terminology?
oh hell!         cudos! applause applause
to you sir!

                the hamlet on the couch is
but a fraction of shakespeare...
for which i prescribe only one course of action...
some Dickens in an armchair...
no other cure for it, sir... and dearest madam...

and oh! oh i almost "forgot"...
why is it sourced as:
woda (water) and wódka (*****)...
such a close alliance...
but no... it's not a drinking water...
so much for water...
what is mirror? lustro...
       well...perhaps it shouldn't be called
for what it's called wódka:
the ill-water...
            perhaps it should be called:
pite-lustro...             drank-mirror...
well... it can't be called a verb and a past-particle
of that verb: pić-lustro: in the present-particle
of: to drink a mirror...

eh... nouns... loan words...
no man's land... brothels and judases...
easy targets... the bulk of the army hides waiting
in grammar...
unless... there's an army...
of "gender neutral pronouns"...
who wouldn't jump first and thirst for the idea...
mannequins eerie: err west!
the middle kingdom mantra began...
no nukes... nukes are not economically viable...
send em a bio-x-factor that the Y in XY will
sooner or later want to forget:
rather than forge...
we **** poor but our women give
the ****** of accelerated reproduction...

      Xin said to Wae Wae:
and that's how the Yang was brooded...
   and Chan said to Ezra: mind the Tao...
please!
  and all other politico: tic-toc
        tic-toc
                            some say it's *****...
some say it's: lustrzyca...
a mirroring-counter-effect...
  blind narcissus...
                my psychiatric ills:
too many words Wilhelm! too many words!
i need the pleb-lingo herr doktor helmut himmler!
to: "fitz inz"!
      
oh y'as sizzor: scissor sir: wery ilz sez he'z...
past the fever's crux 'n' zeniv sirs...

and of course... bad latin grammar...
working from vide cor meum:
     and ad hoc...
                             and a hiccup...
and carpe diem...
      hic: this...
   diem: day
   est: is
           mea: mine...
this day: is mine... or is it...
           hic diem: mea est!
   let's go with that...
  (because it just couldn't be
ancestral language with modern
english... this day: sure...
        is mine? n'ah n'ah'ah'ah)...

             bad english into french can't be
as bad as... good german into good
english and a zeppelin shower...
i.e. good english into bad french...
because it's most probably going
to be... good english into circa-good german...
which is... always the rage of a pwoblem...
you can write bad english into bad
german... and good english into good german...
but however you write good english into
french: it will most probably become:
bad french or... gascon...

    hell: call it a burgundian appealing?
it's a hush... elsewhere... a welshman...
a kashubian... a ruthenian... hell... even a prussian!

sam weller would state, so: wis as whittle
as: theta on the tip of the prefix with
the whiff of: THis!
O da, bila sam bas debelo dete u jednom periodu detinjstva. Moji bas nisu bili takticni, umesto prvo da me posalju u zagorje a posle na more da se malo istrosim plivanjem, oni bi me prvo vodili na more a onda davali babi.A tamo u zagorju u jednom selu blizu varazdinskih toplica sve domace. Vrhnje sa sirom, mlad kackavalj baba pravila od komsijskog kravljeg mleka koje sam inace pila svakog dana i to tek pomuzenog sa temperaturom krave. Domaca jaja, domaci hleb, slaninice, kobasice, razne pite i slatke i slane pecene u sporetu na drva. Iz baste paradajza, krastavca i paprika. A davali su mi i da popijem po malo vina domaceg koje je babin brat pravio i koje je stajalo u nekoliko bacvi u podrumu kuce, a koje su me cesto slali onako da povucem na crevo pa pretocim u flasu. Verujem da je mami bio sok kada bi me videla nakon mesec dana u promenjenom obliku, zapravo bila je besna na svekrvu poprilicno. Kod kuce bih uglavnom doruckovala ili vecerala sama za stolom, i to je bila prilika za mastu, a mastala sam da imam sestru ili brata. Napravila bih sendvic za sebe a i sendvic za imaginarno drustvo, naravno oba sendvica bi zavrsila u meni. S kim ti sada jedes? Rekli mi a da nisam ni pitala nego doslo samo po sebi na temu BG Kaze: "imamo dve sestre koje stalno dolaze ali ne pricaju".

*mh sep 2017

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