Joseph M. Gerace
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>sex as shorthand
> sex is shorthand for somethingits falling frenetic system of near-loopsonto sweat-splattered plains i have brokenits code — led by a soft hand too softlyto her door abandoned or unwrappedvividly protected from above — single words attack from split second splashesdescriptors like: night or tracks in time:peach peach peach peachwritten sloppily in rapid successioneach shame…
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>three chords poorly played, one after the other, and repeated 8 times
> I DON’T OWE YOU AN APOLOGY, BUT YOU’RE GETTING ONE.RECEIVE IT. HOLD IT IN YOUR HANDS. CAN YOU FEEL THE TENSION IT CARRIES? RUB ONE FINGER DOWN THE KNOTTY, LITTLE BLIPS OF ITS SPINE: I SHOULD BE WRITING MORE, BUT VIDEO EDITING IS GETTING IN THE WAY; SORRY.
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>from the window
> Sweetness is sweetness though I acheFor something hard and fragmentary What I find bent backward across my palms — Shaking, saccharine & of my teeth forgivingIncapable of love, & tender & tender —The delicate, definite gender.
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>note to myself, or engine ends you
> I see this textbook blonde walking by the front window of the cafe I’m sitting in. Tall, rail thin, slightly upturned nose, her honey-colored hair hiding her ears and perfectly framing her just-so face my eyes drawn down her body to a gorgeous round ass. Tight sweat pants. Always sweat pants. She disappears from…
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>poppies [rolling edits]
> the definite bisection is imaginedand there are no poppies, signifyingnothing. indifferent men hushthen drain pink over obscured mouths in this placeno decision then her — flesh tensing, urgent light spunkicked off browned-cadmium brickbeside the dun and sandand oil, lacking comportbisection of nothing, of nowhere in this placeno decision a many-whirled pink existencethey must not…
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