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Painting Browns I lean into and onto the empty canvas, my naked body takes in the raw texture, absorbing the idea of "weave," leaving its negative on a living canvas of skin, to be-daub and smoothen the warm damp umber melting into my pores, to be-smear the soft brown over me like a stenchless shitmassage. The white expanse waning with my newfound colouring. Half in and half out of the soft umber grease and ochres-- clean and foul at the same time, I throw myself into that renaissant mud for a luxurious wallow in smooth muck-- virginal clean on the one side and dripping merde-like on the other; rolling on a new self-half-portrait. |
Additional Notes:
This poem was published in different versions in "The Poem Box" and "Longitudes"
and in yet another version here. I'm never quite satified with it, and I'm still
working on a way to get it right. I'd appreaciate any input.
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