Eva Hesse Fiddling-Steam Organic Recollection

                                                                        Eva Hesse recollection of Hearts called it raw.

You used to kiss her kimono for your shoes of pittsburgh and potsdam pure.

                                             Eva Hesse recollection of fear congealed into a child’s head
                                                                                                   when Milkman ran-ran the halls,
                                                                                            on Christmas, wheeling our morning
                                                           concert of her danglies why can’t they ride with her?

                              “Hello? I went to her fiddling with blood. Hello?”

Carolina the bed, Carolina the room broke
unto and the danglies, torches blazing a blunder and ask.

                              That the noise of the City of the clock that rail like the water to her eyes.

                                          She turned toward the mouse organic in the kitchen door for a cry

                        where she collided with the clock

                                                                  struck who wouldn’t once say to her cough

                                                                                                                                          “I’ve got a month!”

                                                                                                               Eva Hesse recollection of soap.

                                                                                    Eva Hesse all over all-all lived together again

to bob about potsdam and potsdam and pittsburgh nothing but right after me to go on

home, where she twisted alone in the muscles of the steam.

Jeffrey Little | Mudlark No. 22
Contents | Toshinori Kondo