The Poetry Project

from Through the Fine — Art of Accumulation


It’s a cold morning




You cut a black apple
That turns into a pastrami

Its red flesh stares back at you
Like a curious death
Uninterested in your becomings
With an albino butterfly
On its globed shoulders
Frozen into eternity

You put it back in the fridge
And head to work

as you always do.

xxxxxxxxxx Morning Routine

It hammered me
on the day
was dressed into white
The ring,
Turned into cold metal nail
Slit through my hot finger
Splitting red lava in half
And my wedding dress

xxxxxIt’s a beautiful sacrifice
/they said and smiled/
xxxxxMight bring you to heaven,
xxxxxGrowing beneath your soil

xxxxxYou shall wear these
/they said and smiled/

xxxxxAs Christ wore the cross

xxxxxAs Christ wore the cross

xxxxxxxxxx Marry Happy

Age is an excuse
To miss
The discolouring of skin
Turned blue
or red

Forget your eyes at home,
xThink with your nose!

for its the closest between us,
closer than other organs like
the eyes or lips
perhaps its fleshy hook
conveys a chance
for connaissance,

The scent of ancestry,
Unpollinated potato flowers
on silent Monsanto fields
Poppies growing on dead bodies
of land

How does an oak tree smell?
x Like time?

xxxxxxxxxxxx (you wonder)

600 rain soaked, sun dried years
I smell your lips and read colours

Each year
a different shade of red.

xxxxx nose over lips over eyes over years

Work from The Art of Accumulation with Vi Khi Nao