Johannes Göransson
The crawled interior
the
punched-out halo
the x-ray
carnation
sewn out
of insulation
burnt
cork tattoos
take the
place of
another
shellshock
§
Jean Genet’s Advice, Whispered in an
Elevator Shack
Hammer
photograph
male organs
wear a
necklace infected
sound
grainy
stick-figure the calyx
pretend
wasps
your
wedding dress must be colored in
your
blackout must be uncontrollable
a heart
beats like a bouquet
a child
beats like a a swan
slur the hands
in the kidnapping
confetti
use a
looted model
in this
movement we are fashionably colonial
§
The
exhausted blossom is a ballet of pulp
and the
masses have head injuries of salt
When the
statues are toppled and the sparrows
are posed
on the dance-floor stroked
we belong
to a different auditorium the cabinet
has been
picked-through like a sparrow
the
close-up has been a lamb but not you
lounge braceleted with an epidemic
with a
transistor radio with a gouge with
a child’s
face with a glamorous landscape
if you
did not sound so gauzed on tape if you
flinched
for me we could call it fashion
§
The president gives his stump speech
and the
garaged shells provide entertainment
while we
map out wipe out out-reference
sideshow
to the nightingale in my make-up.
§
Off-Screen
President: More nightingales in the makeup!
§
The cunt scene is porky and the clean-up
is a
thrash of rubbed swans
in
turpentine
I wash my
bruises clean and achieve
a proper
night parade
Johannes Goransson was born and raised in
home | submissions | links | editor