Michael Quigg (Bio)
i create you
in the space-sun fire
laughing in the natural way
where there are no cameras
with father eyes and lipstick drowning
how are you not surrounded
by warmth
–is a written smile even worse?—
–is a written smile even worth it?—
the ink (digital)
your blue eyes
black-and-white.
more music needed:
horse strings under
centipede beats
i smoke a lit chisel ’til the time bleeds over.
i can force you now, darling, to be created
and what are we here?
or tomorrow, when
each breath you take
against the other.
deathmatch dreams
in old rooms anew.
before the daybreak of sleep.
no golden frames,
no library shelves. call each crease
a nook, and each brainwave
a cranny. rain
into me
let the sculpture
die, then merge
with what is left
tomorrow