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Flesh of the World

  • Posted on: November 15th, 2015
  • By James McLardy

Flesh of the world

-

Call up the plumber.

The plumbing body.

-

We are the plumbers

And the plumbing.

-

We are the original,

Plumbing.

-

Thinking caramel.

Thick-poured,

Arcing across a flat surface.

A plane on which idea & action become one movement.

-

Sensation,

Turning, curd yellow.

Foaming and

Frothing.

Not dough, expanding.

Our outer,

Un-natured.

-

A semi-membrane within,

Now holding the form.

And here,

Is clag into a chewy crust.

And here,

At the boundary between gravity and substance,

Is a very fleshy, touch.

-

Oh shit!

-

This stuff sticks to your skin.

-

Shit! (repulsed)

-

Sticky and,

Gummed up,

Finger and thumb.

Between finger and thumb.

A touch smothered.

-

Flesh

Stuck to flesh

As elastic-bound,

Muted in pinch.

-

Oil.

Clear oil.

An ever-glossy liquid.

Self-lubricating.

Dip-coated.

-

Finger with thumb press,

In a slow push.

Pulled,

They tear into a glide.

Oil side-rounding,

Into a rolling action.

Gum.

In-between softening,

Gum.

In-between releasing,

The between.

-

Now drawn free from the skin’s tiny crevices,

A part-formed ball?

Un-ripe,

As a new yellow pip hardening.

Press-cupped,

Here,

In touch itself?

-

There is only flesh here,

In,

Touch itself.

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