For the record to be a hit:
it also has to be disposable.
I have no bibliography.
Ending on a weak beat
queers the feminine fleshed
revival so nicely, resonances
surprise some power holders holding
no standardfrom the gutter
in my glitter girl excess and frame.
Still I hear the song and sing along!
I hold steady my performance
for the recordI am in-love
with the evening, not an evening.
She plays the accordionit's not new.
She is always barefoot when she plays. You
think she is something supernatural.
She displaces her thought in an armchair,
holds up forms like spiral staircases.
Who knows what to make of it? It reverberates
just like in silent waters where fish wade. When
your body is covered with affection,
spheric verse shifts through each worn current.
Swordfish play a game of touch touch touché.
Her arms push back like cloth undulating
in the sealike seaweed in the sea. Sweet
concertina reed. Something that can breathe
like ink or glister white shine on bone and break.
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