Distribution Automatique

Wednesday, November 26

from *foriegnn bodie* by Nada Gordon
(Detour Press)


Nothing is as it was said-
not the man who I was so
beautiful and I said so what

Not the wing just out of the
chrysalis (gold dot), not the plastic
*chonmage* wig, not even the web

Only love has the fury to make peace
in all the layers of the onion
spouting in a black plastic box

Cats yowling together make the sun rise
and dogs bark, irritation
is a form of pleasure

Like string from a yogi's nose, devotion
doesn't pour from your ears- or throat-
diamond shapes from a revolving lamp

I'm not really here
except for the glowing red light
under my arm...