Predictive Texts son et translated from Petrarch by Dana Guthrie martin & Jay Snodgrass
I. One Voice as Chocolate in Rhyme Parcels [Chide: compassion, deluded states, econfessions, pente, tits! Lava knights dulcet armor.] One voice as chocolate in rhyme parcels. Die quiet, sprightly, and ogle nude liquors. In some of my prime go venial errors; quandary in part altered Om. Dayquil: cheap SOB. Delve into the stile, into Chipotle -- the pinge and rage -frail as veins, Esperanzo and a van full of dollars. Oversee Chi, provoke love in intention, spare troves of pita but do not pardon them. I became a vegetarian, or a sick meal. Yes, potatoes, fava beans, full grains, tempeh. All insolvent. Dime me, dress me. My urge is agog, no? Is vinegar a dilemma, a verging of fruit and pent-up concierges? Consider Sherry, her quantum mind. She used to pace every Monday singing a brave song.
II. Perfume Under the Leggy Androgyny [Fortress contrast inside dioramas, not potent, defenders control the ultimate freckles, dildo armor] Perfume of the leggy androgyny, sewer vender eats one punitive onion and dies being a million offenses, cellar tape the mental armor, the arc of the striptease come you mocha announcer, lugie the temple, spittleear, lame virtue, accordion your core muscle, stretch the perfume to ivy, energy is ouch, sue the defense for a quarter a corpse, or mortal guidance for oven soldiers punting terse orgasms, then settle. Parrot of turbulence knells a primary assault, no ebbing Tantalus, no vigor so spazz or cheap like a pot for salvage songs, your pretender arms over the alps with egg fat, cozy altitudes, right arms according to the mental, a dale so strange a dale of quale eggs I vibrate, be not for open air time.
III
In an Era of Chai and Bat Porno Your Soul Is a Scholarly Rodeo [Guided by vile armor, cellos ferry in an engorged day not overdone or soft pedaled] In an era of chai and bat porno, your soul is a scholarly rodeo. What a pretty little fat rat you are, with that full prescient “I.� Call me Ostrich, lest I give you giardia. Donna, I am long-legged. This tempo is parading me all around, how repetitive. Countries are culpable for love; gardens are insecure. I sense you feel an SOS coming on, heavy petting. Once I lost my mouth guard in a commune. I would give a dollar for noncommunication. Tomorrow I will love you at the movies, disarmed and wearing a tutu. Ed appears to be living like a glottal stop. At its core, even cheddar is sad, a son of fat. You see, every parole, every pardon, does not sit like fun on a Ferris wheel. My deal is, I want to make Ed vomit on the armchair, the sateen one that his mother quilted herself while singing in her larded voice.
IV Quiche, China, the Infinite Provider of Tense Art [In a mortuary dial aura, tree arguments dilate, dial low, get stencils, dove elegant knacker.] Quiche, china, the infinite provider of tense art, o monstrous, half-nelson soup marbled magistrate: she cries questing, equal opportunity misspelling he, the man-suits, pie for the government or minimart, vending in terror, in illuminati cartels of shaven, molten gelato silencing the horizon’s tonsils, it gives and deletes a pierce of nail regenerated; the seal faces low operators. Dice, nascent, aromas for grazing, guides easy, taunts the sovereign with statue ultimatums on the alter, simpering glib and picaresque; a door, dip-coiled, a berg unsolves no data but talcum naturals, rings elegant razors end belting, all mountainous and knackered.
V
Why, You Move Like the Offspring of a Chamois [I stress your cold name. Laura, ignominious tease, legs like cheese logs on a doily.] Why, you move like the offspring of a chamois and your name is change, only coarse. I miss your underbelly of Armoral, its duende. Udders afford illusions, their prime sweet accent like a soup. The voting states are real, not contrapuntal. Has this radicchio been altered? Your illness is imperial. Valor? You tacitly grind my fins into chaff. Sever your somatic toes to onerous idols — ‘cause love revives, the way a Segue’s stressed voice purgies altitude’s vices. I am a dog to revere, a donated fever; see? There goes Apollo disguised as forceps. His parlor is always green and rambunctious. What mortal can ram his tongue with such veracity that it feels like a presence?
VI Straight Elevator Elf, Follow my Decision [Vivid migraine delves some more ardently, Edenic once a constant delivery] Straight elevator elf, follow my decision as a guitar costs a moustache of fumigated volts, or a deal laced in armor’s legal era scrotum so volume dinning zips for Lent corners me cheap, like a quaint rich man diapered in envy, pearls in secure strands, men emasculate names, vale soprano snarl, o dragon volt; shame more Parisians, naturally ill, fair or stationary. Epoch of the French, perforce a serious conglomerate, I’m rummaging grades in mortal transport, soap vaneers, all auras ending design lie acerbic, fruited challenge to the page’s altruism, gusts stand the flag, pious, channeled of confrontation.
VII The Goal Is to Hold Your Name in My Pumiced Mouth The goal is to hold your name in my pumiced mouth like a lozenge, to handle your mounds of agate. True as a bandit, you once dealt in chords and queasy marionettes whose nostrils were vintage by nature. This costume is dull but it is Spandex. Is there a safe way to illuminate it? My ceiling is percussive and informed yet has a human life. You are a miserable coaster addict. You love cheese and would go far to lick on it. Never fumigate a Nascar. Quality wears laurels on the veranda. Am I wrong? Philosophy is a nudist villa, a poverty of dice. I am wearing a turban and eating guacamole. Interested? You poached the campaign to avail the avenues of their litter. A gentile spirit taints the word preggo. When you press against me do not lacerate me with kindness.
VIII A Pie, Deco Olive Labeled Vest [Co-nose diesel reincarnation poof fort, chug Jell-O totally all usual bertha. ] A pie, deco olive labeled vest presided, let’s turn the member privates lay in a chocolate chute with ten envied espressos, and dolls on a lag rim with a destitute liberal imp, ace the passive vampire’s quest for vitamins or talcum ogle the animal diseases, sensory pet the toad trove, a frivolous cozy challenges nostril and dark fossil molesters. Model my misery in state oven’s noisome conduit, it delivers this all treasured and unusual; cofrontist, your edible mortar and avenues chafe, eat a dial lunch, have a coin enema located in frozen alternate pressures, flex extreme rim-men, legal your taco on a major canteen.
IX Why Are You a Pain in My Disintegrating Lore? Why are you a pain in my disintegrating lore? Addle me with cold burgers until Taurus returns. Sick cadences are a virtue of the inflamed cornea. I am wearing a chest vest, one that mounds over my naval — glorious color. Do not fornicate with aprons or purchase rival collars adorned with daffodils. My teeth don’t give me nonsense. Aggregating gravel is a failsafe terrestrial simile. More fruit in the cologne, and talc. A cat’s tail will cost you one dollar and your soles. In me, move like bologna and okra. Don’t cry, pensive diamond. The attic is your parole; my mother will come over and govern you like a Volvo. I am primed for the truth: that you are not mine.
X Glorious Columns, Ink Use Apology Glorious Columns, ink a used apology, nostril spray a zeal for the grand gnome Latino with cankers, he’s a non-torso developed for el Camino liars, they dig an ovipositor, toss a pig on it, squint in the plaza, but it’s no theater of logging, man, I love a vacuum if it abates a flagon. A penis terrible, bald, verdant with libel mounts the vicinity of decibel’s crescendo, the potential ends or pogo levels an iteration. Alchemy on others intelligence the eel rose ignites, you old Caledonia, you mental hombre tut, tut little naughty, lament the pain, demonstrate a pension ill corner gobbler, maintain the beans, truncate a fate imperfect, touché the noise, sign more tics, champagne.
Son Et de Petrarch
Martin Snodgrass
Hysterical Books 2010