In an everyday sense I pick up
a plate of sausage and ham
and radish and my
cunt is not a private person
The theater has finally figured out
how to copulate, the air
conditioner is a collective
noun. Your father, you
mentioned
was a fascist in the early days of the war?
I erect
something animal and
“thinking” in me every day, they claim that
is how speech is made
And the next day is all nothing
but vegetable and mineral
Avoid all memoir, the sun, all
breakfast foods even
though they are beautifully sexual, and I love them
It’s hideous how every
Greek letter of your cock’s and I write split
split, split, split to compensate for my horny sea
levels. It’s the
opposite of what good
girls say. It’s the opposite of
ovarian and things that taste like grain
When you
open up the
body there’s only more body & along
the edges, some gods
In a purely
textual sense
every
thing is now
done on camera
washing off the
stink of this morning’s squid & so much
generalized
nippling
My ugly face
& appearing to be sipped
I find an utterance and so
many men at the bar are now deranged, to
a “thinking condition”, to
something that almost approaches cinema
Ann Pedone
Ann is the author of The Medea Notebooks (Etruscan Press), The Italian Professor’s Wife (Press 53) and Liz (forthcoming from Tofu Arts Press) as well as numerous chapbooks. Her work has recently appeared in Posit, Texas Review, The American Journal of Poetry, the Dialogist, Barrow Street, 2River and Tupelo Quarterly. She graduated from Bard College with a degree in English Literature, and has a Master’s in Chinese Language and Literature from Berkeley. She is the founder and managing editor of the journal αntiphony.
OSMOSIS PRESS 