Let’s Go to the Flat


This is a text I didn’t manage to send. I think a friend of mine had just asked “where d’you wanna meet?” We’re both writers and had collaborated on a short story for a while. Back when I was doing those and she was spending marginally less time on being a playwright. I like stories.   

Let’s go to the flat and have a little food and read poems, other peoples’ poems, aloud to eachother and the air
I have Parturient IV and Donne and Baudelaire and Keats
Poems to read
Other peoples’ poems we could display with our voices and cadences and intonations
Like Keats and Lamb and Wordsworth and Haydon and Ginsburg, Kerouac, Solomon
Read and eat Oreos and talk with poems making music
Verbal guitar-playing poetry with sweet-sounding sibilance making air
With Keats and Kerouac and prose
Let’s read the Yellow Wallpaper and go to the flat and talk poems
Let’s be and I and thee with sounds
Poetic ambrosia and prose
And poems to sound and noise let’s go to sit in park fields to drink poetry on pastures newly
Fertilised with poetry and prose
And the same four chords for all the sounds making a song about poetry
To talk and tell a song riding the winds of fate past a hundred meetings winged breathing poetry
To ride a sound of flow of poetry through riverside streams of noise to rumble of poetry off mountaintops to valleys of poetry of pity in sound of relenting prose to sing a song of poetry crying out loud of pages of books in wild sociable solitude screaming
Sweet sweet bellysound tonation derivation of poetry
Braille-bashing art paint without the noise of poetry
Eating oreos watching films drinking noise to howl poetry
In the ruining heart will shatter the walls and expire

Let’s go to the flat.

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