Like lumino pleco.
'My younger brother'
He was driving on Airport Blvd., stopped at Springdale, early morning, sun deep and tired. Assuming that he was hungover, this could be false. Straight -- penetrative glint on the street, bothering the vision. And tired. Silver. Drives up alongside this unknown object casting itself, stopped at the red light, popping open the door, direction of face and vision--slapping the pavement. Single silver bullet round. Looking around busy street. "Do you tell someone." I picture an arm propped against the open car door, his body hovering more horizontally than vertically, over the silver round / over the street.
Some people do wake up smiling.
A collapsing dome of a river, massive erosion thousands of years ago, leaves the open air cavern, water inside, cracked egg cradling yolk, a baby blue yolk, some plant material in the yolk, arterial.
At the museum I stood in front of a votive figure. Seen it so many times, poorly designed books, in school books. Was not expecting the Prince of Lagash / Sumerian / and Early Dynastic votive of Eannatum from 2340 BC on his feet opposite me. What are you doing here in Texas, shouldn't you be in the British Museum. Same territory, sterling bullet shell & inlaid LAPIS/MOTHER OF PEARL eyes / that spearing, focused glinting in them both. Staring at the figure--I can't see him, I can't see him, like there's a power hose in my chest, carving out, indented open sphere. Feeling the gulf in perception, I am a different being altogether from that votive's creator, I don't like that, as he stares off he avoids connection to my gaze forever, to yours... I'd like
to get a glimpse into true etymology. Moments when words were created, falling out of a mouth for the first time, justifications for them, how did that go.
I am imagining beautiful paintings of women pissing, luxuriate in relief, Dutch, nothing crude, like pouring water out of a glass pitcher, silks wetted.
I want my lips to be too big to rest logically on my face.
CURSORY JIGGLE /