Piero Passacantando

Esporrà dal 30 novembre al 12 dicembre

RGMBW Pattern 2
Gouache su carta
55x55
Anno: 2011
Prezzo: 400

eggs and jewels

sphincter crater lakes

and perfect.

They are air and water and nothing.

He blinks and his eyelashes shine with the sun,

each coming out of its own mole hole

black blades of grass in a well arranged suburban row

ecstatically sprouting out of their well kept wet smooth pink field.

The wrinkles under his eyes are actually less then he always thought and felt. She knows that that growing old is not easy. It’s like you slowly dry. Die dry. Dry down die. Die die die. Live live live. And humans boil each other up. We do. Throw acid on each other. Cut.

The earth stumbling on a carpet and breaking her only foot. 

Her cheekbones betray her will to still jump in a stream. And also fuck hard.

His mouth shines with saliva. Her mouth shines with saliva.

She notices hearing herself swallowing, inside, while he holds her hand:

·      2 octopi;

·      5 branching probes;

·      1 apple pie;

One of them living more than the others, despite its height; full of its potential to grow, a dolphin cock.

The air flowed in his left nostril and her right one

his tongue moved anxiously while she talked endlessly

a small earthquake in his teeth creaked, petrified and electric.

A scar ran under her eye. There are things not easily fixed.

Gravity kept them well grounded

down

die down dry

Her cheekbones gently rolled onto his teeth, onto her nose and onto his temples

a fog of pulsating meat rolling calm, above, as the sun was setting.

The whole apparatus was like a baroque cathedral.

Dome skulls under their hair.

A church organ full of mucus, water, leaves and songs.

Piero Passacantando