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Road trips

Haidee Kruger


1
The world watchful.
A collection of

synonyms to drive
into ahead. (Insidious

intent indeed.) To
see without saying:

a deleted machine masking
the mouth myopic,

archiving the actual.
The street armed with

women syntaxed,
soliloquies in high

heels and hotel rooms,
ribbed for whose

pleasure. The exoskeleton
of the world bruised

into a present
shimmer. Look –

the sky leaks
a litter of signs:

a flagship, a fountain,
a set of teeth, a romantic,

a climax. Oh,
not to think of a thing.

2
Quote. The weight
unpalatable, wrapped

in tacit dough.
Bicycles spitting

dust. The road a
lissom bride, a metallic

taste corneated. No
afterglow dumping,

no prolix prolapse linotyped
into submission. Just

a bloody balloon on
the horizon, grass crossing

swords, some spectacular
tongue. Supersized silence

lateralised, swallowed. Feet
kicking against syllabic breeze.

Swivelling back, already an
unbalanced epic erasing. Unquote.

3
Hanging by a
paradigmatic thread,

the world blossoms a
rotten egg. Streetlamp

by streetlamp the
tar swells to sacred.

There’s something about
the armour, the way

he blinks, framing
peristalsis. Sweet

inside. Wolfwhistling and
all in green she comes.

It’s a slippery
slope, by lipreading

eloped. Pulling yourself
up by the vowels. To

have many stomachs, to
stomach it. Throwing

tinted punches behind glass:
semi-coloned bliss, cloned.



LitNet: 10 October 2005

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