A Museum of Making Do
When all was said and done, the human parts were my favorites.
Sun glints through glass roofs under which some move, irregularly
ambulant. I’m glad we never make it to the mall, in the dream that ends
the instant before we kiss. We kiss and kiss, pretty kissing. Parts move
smooth, through the meanings.
* * *
Karl Parker is the author of PERSONATIONSKIN (No Tell Books). No Tell Motel first published this poem in September 2004. Karl wrote, "I'm delighted, especially when I let language, in other words my other words, do whatever they slash I want to do, person-ify spontaneously and not, at and because of particular contexts; it's that simple, that material, that literally performed for and of course by a shifting aeriallyrooted "me"-place within and established by various frames real and imagined--say, social and haunted, the extrapersonal. All the "fun" in the house's marking and remarking the semiviolent, sad, somnolent, laughing torn and so on human image, not via verbal photographia--more by way of, as if, hand-gesture-prints in flickered series, no, speechprints, movement-echoes of a voice doing voices, all including its chosen own. I say Take any and all liberties and socalled ha licenses with language in the furtherance of the invention and accretion of your own thought, your own signs, your own actual useable meanings in your time and place always."
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