SPOTLIGHT: Special Features: DVD Poems by Sara Matson

<ur so pretty it makes me sick>                              tank girl

she speaks in mustard crusts                             tinny
                                                                a beer can punted across a highway

sandstained tube sock strappy hungover

the shoulder boulder holder (targeted)
yellow plastic braids attached

to dusty bowler

(cult classic ultraviolence /// reference)

apocalyptic luxury cultivated w/
flamboyant                           maniacal generosity

single grain revelations amongst an ocean

of sand                   hotblonde dishwater

rooted at fluorescent random                            magenta

maintained + ignored rolling across

missile tits                             the fucking coolest

her own elegant mechanic instincts

flourishing muted horn domesticity

sexywar battered deeply anachronistic           icon

(of the world i wanted to resist in)

growing up is modern dissertation waltzed

across aches of traumaspit + rigorously mulling the
spicy pretties w/ plaid waists +

feathered boleros

(she shared breath               w/ Bowie)

while trying to find my own teddy on a stick

+ scoop my pelvis forward to lengthen my spine
(too                                         tall)
her winged-quirky hive lightup giggle
wandered thru time past the decrepit mansion

crushing sadness // sweet love /// devastating loss

(stop                       memory                 stop)

swiveling in roasted curiosity + eternal


mistaking kindness for weakness

is something only done once
when a loaded boltgun is pressed

to any manner of cheek

<a little ingenuity>                                                    mcgyver

without thinking
unbend it

demand in             or w/ merit            (but still)

ankle deep in cocktailnapkin napalm

i fiddle w/ the gentle promise of

familiar demolition

                blackedout eagle spotting

why is it always the humble + miraculous

(if temporary) that crave the frosty

geometry of buzzing planes 

the remarkable luxury of spontaneity

is reserved for those crafty + aggerate

bird of prey                           types

i remain antecedent            (to myself)

wires melting        (physics the real hero)

an entranced curator

coughs up silver paperclips in whipped tufts

brutal texture opening new possibilities

(undulating mylar tease)

working in tandem

copper droplets liquify

+ the resulting spyrographic forms

release the grip + soothe the concentric nerve

guide my neck back                            to center

slicing playfulness w/ the fierce style

of burning books in a dusty field

<hold me>                                          edward scissorhands

waist deep bouffant
pastel silver + weightless
mid-career estheticians (hi, mom)

lush + groovy topiary existence
slender + cold
blades                    haunting the profound

he was my grandfather how

all kindly old men are related to me

// by blood or sadness or diner food

raspy // honey soaked private
affirmation rolling posey pink

like a lovers moisture                         down my throat

in conjunction w/
slinky blonde devotee snow spiral
inimitable or deeply romantic          

cold nostalgia gently floating

down to earth potential

sliced                      like overgrown fringe

honor the ancient magic
w/ vibrant organ or
devilish hedge trimmed /// in velvet

seminal collection of signature
beehives stark + impersonal pastel

electric against plasticized suburbs

not bad just


(is                            there a difference?)

polished alternative
in laminated metallic or thick tubes
weighty regrets

worn as a reminder

of how nostalgia ages as memory soaks my tongue

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