28 Mar 2005, 9:23pm
Writing
by David


Resections(I);
Body Citrus Tatoo

Choice fruit. Became a simple task
of holding the limbs down,
pinning
wire around the loose ends of the umbilicus,
drawing
a tiny mouth at the seam.

Now it’s safe to go in.
                                                        This way
the orange is                 tattooed to the wall,
tattooed with blue ink               to the wall

downstairs painted blue. The wall is
tattooed to the orange, which is
tattooed in time.

(The current is 32 AMPS.
The phonograph’s arm is
                                          DOWN.)

The orange is             tattooed in Nature;
nurture, nurses, noone, nothing
can stem her; it can be

a blue stem on a flower, surgeon
on a stick, or on a needle, or on an eye;
a span cancre spotted blue skirt
(which can be stricken) as any cellophane body
can
(by any bug or butterfly) which can be
happily & distressed

ashes, ashes

but a body may be
and a body may be
and a body may be

alive while the kidney and brains sour:
the boy,
                who in green, & in bullets, & in science
                believed as in his own defense mechanisms
                saw the airplanes shot; he saw them
                his own riot progress, & he painted it
                down in layers of blue flame, screams
                applied as under a blue cellophane
                (taped to it and it, and to it and it)

(each one)
that he gazed at (which were like those, each, each one;
                his, its, mine; be exact, possess)

                which were at his own feet
                (that he had applied
                the polish to)
                which would have kept the eyes
                dim & firm & broken up
                & assigned to the ground

but the boy

                the boy who was &
                who was &
                who made & re-made, & who made & re-made
                & who–& what’s more–who painted

an orange
                which orange made him realize
                the oranges he saw
                were just as spotted (as
                in Tendrilacrid smoke) (in layers about him)
                the people were & were only oranges (but bloodred, soaked)
                & splashed upon the planes

that he had pinched in
the blue flame
of a cigarette.

                Then it fell
                (fell)
                into his face
                (and into his face)

the orange

                (orange)
                which had splashed his mother’s face,
                & Stung
                (& Stung)

so much like his own                         destiny.

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