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  • Lime & Bone Marrow

      Contagious Thoughts

      Hell is a state of mind heaven, too, and old carbon copy of (what was) me tempest-torn divided grounds the skeletons of rhetoric a lone soliloquy performed to an audience of cadaverous Yous in a torpor of spectators thoughts contagious as a plague sharing madness and shelter at the end of all things where thoughts are stillborn live and me an omniscient narrator scary like a translating pun

      With Mabel you Learn

      COFFEE-COLOURED flowers miracles she rings snakes road-killed deer, sun-eaten Mabel waltzes lime bone marrow a screeching halt fights like a man point at the bleeding justify, point Fire works in many ways melting hands one-armed Indian goddess frothing along the mouth lost in your wallpaper a sack of blood and ice

      Made life we conjured him up from stones, from badlands, from earth in the thick darkness of the night a choking heat his limbs binding together like vines, unravelling, like so much lust, and then filled with life we had made.

      Acrid, Bitter Poet Ghoul (aka. Goodbye Wordsworth!) The ghoul is here, the rumors say, an artist shot with lead; badly buried in a haste and risen from the dead. No-one knows, sir, you must see, why's the man not gone; they think the reason might just be a poem not quite done. In his mouth, the neighbor tells, a nasty set of teeth; a sweetish tooth for human cells and brains for favourite treat. In his fridge, the people say, a jar of brains made cream; on his desk in "to do" tray the poem still midstream. The daffodils, still small and frail, in mr. Wordsworth's yard were trampled by the lead-white ghoul wand'ring like a cloud. "What's it like", the press-man asks, "to be a complete sod? Why did you do violence to Will's most famous lot?" "I'm not nasty, do you hear, I'm just a man gone mad, mad with words that just aren't here when I need them bad." "In that case", the press-man says, "we must get you freed! Our readers must have many ways to help you in your need!" Come the next week, legends claim, someone comes to aid; Inventing a valid rhyme - "Your ghoul can now be laid!"

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    Minna Louhelainen 2014 / minagi (at)