Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Ree-yoozeb'l Sek-terree-an Rosary

They lay in a maul on the circus tent floor; a brickwork of dirt and sawdust. (Alfred and Manfred, simian twins, feet curled up into ree-yoozeb’l balls of flesh and bone). They pressed in close to one another, tailbones touching, arms enmeshed, Alfred bleating like a wane calf. What warmth they could find in one another’s body’s they shared like two children tossing a ball, an even distribution of throw and catch. Manfred held Alfred’s tiny hand in his own, twiddling his fingers like a sek-terree-an rosary. The smell of stale urine and off-meat filled the circus tent with a bitter tang, rosebuds and apple-cores, seedlings and calf’s tongue, remnants of three-legged camels and lame dogs.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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