• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 01
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Shell Key

she sells sea she she’ll sound sure
bells for her, alert to x second of
extinction / wait, label this nothing
official or, orificial: opening
an evidence; say, artifice
(du feu) in pinks prinked & frilled
little grisette with a wicked grille
has shrugged off her grisaille
with a leg & a knife & what seems
silence (listen, a salt whisper to scour
the ear) she’s not here for that,
this girl is (not) for sale, is that sale
or salé, a salopette all bucket no spade
thus stranded, sablé (source: Sévigné),
she’s a rich bitten biscuit, teethmarks
an occam mock-up – simple as ____,
sweet as ¬_____: there’s no way to
read this 2D into hap, fingers caught
napped at the undertow – chaotic! all your
wave forms on a spiral to infinitude
her attitude: say, lip & pull it,
all the ‘twixts she cups between
within & wouldn’t you like to know
o!, as the old shanties go, she’ll
sell you sea, as much as the shell
of your two hands can carry