Ron Silliman Reading

(In collaboration with Nichole Hermance)

It’s the hands
and it’s the sitting
and it’s. . .
it’s the hands.
What’s that?
Oh that’s the mud.
But the mud,
it’s the oil
and the oil,
it sticks to the leg hair.
And it’s the green grass grew all around,
all around,
and the green grass grew all around
the hands,
and it’s the sitting. . .
and the hands.
And it’s the gasoline in my mouth
sweeping the nation,
oh the gasoline
and oh the sitting
and the 7th grade comfort,
with the hands. . .
sitting.

New Sentence

Spinal tap fluids. Girl sitting in waiting room opening gum filled atomic bombs. Vines that reach seagull lands and trash invested shoe collection boxes. Muscle relaxers. Castle building dummies. Technical jive fills report cards. Essay unfinished, never to be finished. Clock ticks friend’s phone number. Baseball lost the entire season. I cannot open the handicap door. Free condoms. Black crow dives for love and bracelet breaks. Growling stomach. They lost Tina. Arrows pointing to mountains-to father should be here. Rainbow marked files of living situations. Barbie dances to psychedelic football chants. Sorry lunch box, backpack, carrying overload lady. Some people reduce breast size. Do screws come attached? Bad, oh introduction. I keep dig. Was there but no. Lick pen. So it continues past morn and onto the lagoon. Mickey no, bad guitar. I have your sweatshirt buried in clouds. Antithesis may pertain in questions of when, who or how. Hocus magic, pork belling dancing lovemeister. It could have been Gorilla’s photogenic night. Are you strong enough to skeleton walk? Fermented pear bread, I thank you. Crossed palm leaves of glory whisper too young to not more. One letter and yep, so long.