REEMOIR


boo—ah!—boo--aha-erlebnis sinbelre-aha--oob—ha! —oob
(Lacan, 1949)

not
my world
for you: this
Ave’s nightmare
had in your stead --

throw painted babies right
y with blush commended
rub your full sized tool this
way and that, amorphus =
“good contact” thankSpock
she scream filth grinds to
nutrient supplements he
’s to live outside in a cot
coping aside, she grows her
scream up into me, I speak
language into her, she mouths
me for cosmetic Orange 300C 
gurgling in my pitch lap see
-thing for more, she’s my high
vacuum but all mine, aluminised
I’ve owned nothing but a life, tomb
sleeped forever, she’s on the autre
petite-pois-a mulch liqui-factions
at Hermès’ baby yoga club coos
the brand into a perfect down dog
carers measure in cms for the
formal deforming part 4 paint her
baby chubs with Cerium Oxcide
where cheekbones should splinter
she’s spherically returned not intact
where’s he? she licks his arse, cleans
up, wishes he’d even look back at
her, carrier. sink into the famili-argh
couch, kids cracked behind the walls
slowly swelling from karyogamic to
infans, swilled with apples, pears soft
ripe, boil, blend, bored to the cat’s eyes
speak more than me but this is all on the
side where we squirt and grit and there’s no
more to see than can be looked at back in the im-
ago hall, bedroom, bathroom, handbag, decorative
ornamental suffusion of silently broken plate figuring
the domestic limits of her manny’s partial contraction
“she wants a less post-modern mummy”, the nurse CRB’d
moving softly over the micro Chaneling to roughen it up to
view to transport to form to tell tales which we tell back to our
little ones who repeat after me, repeat after me, ‘you’re so pretty
punch this child directly in the face, do it now, do it because it is to
do to yourself what you did to her in your words and ways and the tr
ooth you served her on surfaces rippled with mini-grinders for powders
tealing gold grab you micas and oxides, it’s all the same in cerebral vacancy
the glass of your eye swivels her out in the world with nothing but some fanny
pinks and a peony in her hair and some tinkling laughter inspired by T4 dollar her
transitional object downloaded to camera phone pixilation readjust into a cuddle with
Tiger on the bed of the B&B themed round Pooh YOUR NEWBORN BIRTH TO ABOUT
THREE MONTHS: bilirubin foreskin stridor but that’s boys (I guess) unwhole stifferent tale to see