for tree shapiro…
exhibit
themselves as demanded by Baudelaire and
Benjamin above
hypertension resulting in staggering about with protruding eyeballs, cacophonous bowel sounds, muscle and joint pain that feels like slow roasting, inability to urinate, inability to cease urinating, sudden double-jointedness, cottonmouth mouth, itching in an unreachable location, athlete’s face, knee sap, extremely offensive odor that smells like strawberries to you, undead feeling, migrating love handles, reverse vertigo, cravings for bees and other sweet insects, Jolie lips, full-body sloughing, jazz hands, visible bubbles in the blood, eye hair, abdominal rash that spells “LET ME OUT,” uncontrollable urge to contact attorneys, laughing buttocks, and a blinding but oddly comforting white light
the lens of Piombino’s insistence both on the complexity of social relations and the complexity of individuals
a shoe-shining snitch or happily floating in my mother’s womb with my ear against her belly button, like a hearing bugle, straining with clenched tooth to hear the muffled words
His stories
ndividual connection in places that the paradigms ignore and hide
propelled through a window on a flume of sauce “in a great vomitous arc” and lands in a canal, where he is scooped up by his Italian friends, Rocco and Pino, who happen to be passing in their dirigible torpedo. “Nothing’s been rigorously what you’d call ‘real’ lately,” he observes… it’ll be a wonder if a single sled dog escapes the stew pot
The body
can construct soporific angles, hills for its aches. Every
hill conceals an ache. This is why thousands of aches
will settle in the hills of our flesh, of our insides, where
they have found their sleeping positions. This is why it
is dangerous to budge people, to demolish their hills.
To tug at cities and at urbanites is to awaken the aches
President Bush, for example, could truthfully say to the mother that her son had to die for the self aggrandizement of the President and the profit of his Carbon Club and munitions industry sponsors. in the past the wars recede, clouded by a mythic dimension that the answer (He had to die so others might live in freedom) is largely true. But it isn’t the only answer that is available to the underlying question, Other answers then included “enforce the military provisions of the Treaty of Versailles.” or perhaps
a protem grave in Moyelta of the best Lough Neagh pattern
whatden, weighingmus of brookpebdarks own wrunes stup
existential Humphrey Bogart, the prophet of sun and sea, the Algerian Pied Noir, the ladies’ man, the TB lunger, the Stranger, the mistaken Outsider, the “Trotskyite”, the rebel, the guest, the moral journalist, the day to day historian, the exile, the Nobel Prize Winner, neither the victim nor the oppressor, the French resistance partisan, editor of Combat and the goalkeeper for Algiers FC. Here was someone you could put your faith in
fey. thin.
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