an excerpt, by CHRIS TYSH

Porne I come to without slurring
a prostitute what goes on
& they smoke in venetian red
nails porphyry eyes full of money one
wakes at night to touch the color
TV it is hers nothing is
illegal porcupine porch pork-barrel
slow porridge produced by strangers
she said she couldn't afford the breast-
feeding so much undressing
there's one's port
or carriage
to think of

barren sterile matrix of another
weave mistaken for tradition
charms she put to work
around rosy spike other
instruments I only gave her
a few small nips

he said after
it was over
and now there's pink ribbon
with said words flapping in mid air
borne back against their heads

some can't tell the difference
they watch a pope
or pimp display pomp
by floating US arms long silky hair
scarcely a wind promise of
head in the door
to put suddenly eyes
protruding in a realistic style
I add for good measure
puffed up rituals eaten as confection
and propose marriage
by roasting pharmaceutical powder
in a screened room leading out to
an order of cleanliness the soldier-men are
charged with loss later peace

I want to throw together what I know
with several angles & sides lick
the baby spoon many times I felt
such fascination Porne could I have done it
in my Anna Karina black velvet dress

I take liberties with your image
as you do mine there's plenty of
room even trees become this fluttering
question cultivated like the reddish belladonna
eventually everything grows
into a formal arrangement anything
bought or sold harasses

she has alegría
functional intelligence for potboilers
turnip row she spits
in the bidet it becomes her label de qualité
a curious charm bracelet
Dear God why can't she have powerhouse
political steam morning papers
like she once did esp. The World outdoor
races fall fashions & licorice
already I see her rise at dawn
carrying a black attaché-case filled
with critical material (mostly
dialectical materialism & psychoanalysis)
she has scheduled a final
reunion of form and matter
but only after the gratuities
have been paid indeed only after
castration a powder puff leaves a trail
of language as she exits the theater
but the name nobody seems to remember
something exotic like Bangkok
moist abdomen under examination

What hides a damaged glass plate
mother-daughter in imitation
of a novel lounge on blue couch
starts a trend later
will secure history:
ankles bangs towelettes a swelling
everyone comes to

La prostituzione, dunque, è uno degli aspetti
dolorosi della società umana. La nostra sen-
sibilità di uomini civili, la considera un as-
petto turpe e laido. Ma non sempre è stato così.

I am divorcing the song
in its woody purlieu let it be
violent & public like tear-gas
between my legs I want to
address you with greatest respect
get rid of impurities
on the way to speech
a punctum now & then
the possibility of
relieve me of the duty to police

read the author's Bio and Working Notes

go to this issue's table of contents