The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


01   nikuko-arm----------------{armarmarm}

you open your arms wide, begging the populace to embrace you. you pull
your arms around your body. pop-pop-pop. it hums with the beauty of death.
it warms to my hand. i am once again, warm in my hand, warm with the
beauty of it. no pop-pop-pop, we emerged later with blood on our arms. at
last i came to the eastern arm to hold my warm out, my flesh out, to their
touch, their gatherings, communal. it seems impossible. i want to hold my
warm out, my flesh out, i'm feverish; there are strange welts on my arms..


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