Page 88 - Mistranslation Laboratory: An Unfolding

It accumulates and
falls away, always the autumn of
doors & light
always the
turning of
spoons.
Legs find their way in the movement of the ship,
a wish for leaving, a leaf of a cats too-hardly breathing book, under the shaking house.
I will sin. It is the thing That is tuned.
This species of fighting with the jaw
unites us,
in our living,
And then I eat you. Raw tomatoes
tomato sauce
our saucy messy hands.
The tiring
washing as it sighs
on the
line of every
felt structure. Lips
track. The
teeth have yesterday
softening inside them. I hoped for this. Held in,
high up, calling
with the navel,
with the core -
maybe just an apple core
Count the ounces of
discomfort piercing the pelvis into
a sieve to organise weight s light.
The turning over of periphery s calendar. Angular kinds of measurement make the breaks
in breathing and functioning explicit
A ground of spilly fractures
rises up carves you out in folds
This fairground claw goes for
it all and comes back weightless as an
ocean Directional electronic refrains
cut in agreement from the sticky
sides of ocean walls
& adhesives
are molecular kinds of care without release