Küçük Iskender

from souljam
Translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat


wounded electricity satisfies the body,
whispers to it of the innocence of hallucinations,
cinema refracts a threat, at the growing heart,
everyone hauls, the kid somewhere,
puts the pencil stub in the mouth,
the boy will mature, in his mouth. the bad dick, grows wildly.


jimmy morrison sherlock holmes, oh!. dr. watson
pulls down his boxer shorts. violence is, in essence,
a careless kind of yearning. passion’s
armada, amid its arousals,

my dick coming alive thinks backwards inhales nostalgia.


the white horse, fancy free, will leap the log
of mystic progress. its eyes’ll break
their word. the sea gull, realizing
it has a melody, panics, dunks the tip of its wing
into the soil. in its beak the weak chlorine
of ionized penitence. critics,
picking on the kid, mash him into ice cream: the sugar cone
is damned. as a prophylactic
night begins.


the darkling siamese also is drawn to the boy. his family enisles
him to the pantry -infiltration of communication
by mechanical insulation
!- tactical efficiency inflames & delimits
connectedness, death’s imploration
for collaboration.


the obstinacy of the now, against slow time.


his face, the desert shower of indispensable love,
subject to rough trade, to deposits of excess dnas
long held in the mirage air

joseph’s fatal faetal seven year release of husbanding silo
leaning on the coat of multi colors.


oh the kind of yearning violence snubs.


then someone shows up. no voice is disrupted. my arab shimmers.
from the heat of dirty august one ascends the throne
of replete September

railroads railroads of sound.

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