"Moderator Cantabile" by Corina Copp
COMPANY EDITIONS is an independent publisher of poetry and visual art. The journal, Company, was founded in 2013 and is published three or four times per year. We will also be publishing chapbooks beginning in late 2016. Company Editions is based in Athens, GA, Iowa City, IA, and Cambridge, MA. You can contact the editors by emailing editors@companyeditions.com.
CORINA COPP
MODERATOR CANTABILE
Underpainting
moderates ff or open pores watch out Pupils cash out when gray droplets form inside,
syphilis was innovative and lasting Sounds horrifying but she’s licking herself. Expended
re- production makes her lie
else- where pull out of where I am
cut Badly, not just the
wrong sexual act, but the only one
I don’t care about as a Topic…ars
mutandi era’s fuck- ing with
living to be gifted for love, tightly lashed. Every
word is a Lie, including omnipotence Dominoes in French dusklip of the camels. Voice of the shutt- le in trying to whet now,
dry- ing
castigated puppet leader in otherwise Knockout Tan. She tried to love him,
shimmering on the boat she said she
found the text beautiful, anyway,
‘and yet the time does not disappear’
is an aligned horizon important
to a poet who renounced her own talent. So has satiety
blunted the appetite of our eyes.
Red feeler now is the hero.
Philistine had a secret she carried
from chamber to Realism,
reddening Shadow runs across her fore- head, misconceiving the
prop- erties as
permanent, only to discover the Moderator Were two reasons for this
se- lection, one, was to—he
said, we don’t have much time to think on Personal
Dignity, Little in the way of
alcoholic trace, if you accept what is Bad. By your sweet ears,
rum- bling born blood ambergris leaking strips
the same color I want to rip off the Nylon and be her veddy good teets said in her CIA purposes
mag. Derivatives will push from the back, forgiveness a cut
in- to linearity, oh how long. How Long in historical time King’s horses said, Oh 1 HR and 52 minutes, Long Good Bye, if I
was thirty I felt effaced I sung-heaped in Grand Central, was late for the ceremony I’d never be a part of, knowing not peace of twilight over the shoulder
of the woman I love. Remembered instead all the times I felt
like, apathetic while walking home in the AM after an incident. Proud of the book- shelf for holding up so many twinges of arthritis, Erika
hits Mother wantingly,
but not wantonly. MY hands tremble YOUR hands let myself go blank. All the women are in- scribed, star groups saw me but no interest in holding. If no judgement to attract the attention of the court If no judgement in public, Forgiveness at show trial Placid state of shrink what
is kept must be adulterated Pay attention, in the Hericlidae, Demophone says
POOR GIRL! to self-immolated Macaria’s face…poor
almost burnt peg board…Take care, avoid avoid…take care, Avoid… It’s tending to it. I tend to see it that way. As if ‘that’
were ‘Bad.’ As in, I tend to give
mat- ernal and
sexual security at once, ‘as if’ ‘that’ ‘were
Bad.’ Faithlessly, passively,
obedient- ly not
enough when night ambrosia’s brainy gulfs
melts And over your heart I watch And over my division of
night or people-watch your Heart For Dior, time is precious,
pour cologne over your arms to wake us. We have a few more pines if year’s boredom and appear to be serious, through doubt a munchkin bit off his tit and he crieeed for a magical negativity,
Dig- nity—he said
he’d give the blood well I told him I
didn’t want it, you didn’t want
that blood you made a decision, but your life—are living it
along- side and ahead of your being is your life in accord with warm… Alongside the bank walls
were Adriatic and adjacent Alpine slices of cheekbone he got tired of hurting and
simultaneous- ly Writing
it Underpainting
moderator ff Walks
into room where we all
warm, this man’s eyes fill with
blood, watch struggle up
until his cheeks, cheeks silver
stain blood, my val- ence absent and he re- enacts
the ritual performed in hammer
room where bare, I had had
heartbreak up to here, Ear- Rings
of
Madame De, been bro- ken-hearted
up to here, broken hearts
since heart maggots got grisailled, you know that car can not
heal its own puncture, and
have been flesh- breaker
and less since I made
sculp my trade redact, He killed
his wife and his baby, as though
there were no one listening. I
keep talking about the peas It’s
just how I like it shipped I
don’t want one pea a day;
I just like to feel elite and
depraved so I might Physically
rescue the blank Even
though my means be weak Offensive,
cloudy…commensurate with
Fear of wonderful, divine breastplate Hot
Sunned, feelings up to They that
have the artistic impulse to
hurt, What I see is the end, but wood
stirrer in my good Parallelism on
blue line plane <<I remember sob- bing into our iPad Minis,>> sd victim, now
much stronger in losing her leg
with her sister’s, good thing sister
in the Keys, We’re just so out
of felt, carelessly we turn away.
And walk away. Style What
I see is the end, but it’s eyes puma-abundant,
pre- sealed,
dappled, adored Put
SNOW in my mouth,
lack of reportage <<Snarls in Heat>>
Unfastening her golden hair/ black
dress, her grave, pale face,
<<Anna started off to walk across
the desert, so she might reach the
mountains>> It might have been thought
that among the skulk she’d
reap bionic force or a large chair
but Not desiring The Recognition
she fell to her knees and
could spy material form our brother
over again in mount not having
murdered yet, or rather not PHANTASIE
co-mates SCREAM- ING
AT FIBBER, and never (Co- Mates?)
or you really get it, get pity out.
If pity bakes— without
vision, for Vision will include massacre
if given Vulnerability + repetition
compulsion or lighter, ballet
is a good example of plea- sing.
Let us open the window, please Likelihood
a violent squall of wind? Note,
to serve Notice
herself ever, neither abjure obedience in moderation, moderately and
melodiously, moderately and melo- diously, moderately devour, crowd con- tinues to distort medical performance. Pear glow birds on this Dry Night. Did
you have
a dream your voice was
gone or lose the ability to
write? hhhhHis wife set chest stimulants I
feel my question has been answered ele- gantly, but to end erotophobia
is Looking for pretend too greatly to make it, I
see a finish and am holding only
pepper-cream as I ask a question the answer to
which I know will hurt my feelings only hard
again- st a show of riding it. What…in your
case… makes you…the sleek baby jaguar has short legs, an elongish body, and a sculpted tail. Ears are short and rounded. It hears feeding a baby bird an orange wedge and from its MacLaren tips Tupperware’s blue Whale,
<<may- be it will sail into pink again!>> A
comment on BANQUET WIVES BETTER THAN ONE SINGLE GIRL SALIVATING, I IMPLORE YOU…! Feel hanging as por- trayed, for days I nourished. Held back
swells making a broad blue, she’ll get
severe- ly blue, having blueshift.
Blueshift will help you leave anything, when to leave any one. When to leave when lands in the Rover. Infliction of pain upon the weak and sickly is so saying Coat’s not concolor,
With, at most, a hole in the wall. I’ll get it. Will this vision through the pipe aide that vision of Fake labor because it’s not ‘that bad,’ just won’t infinite
universe a Curling that turns over in my arms False, then, at its seat of emotions, font of nourishment, garment section. Gray purpose curls up entirely, and
dies, In my arms, tonight’s. Dysphagia
remains ( choked on it frozen before a leading new novelist and curl up entirely,
neck- lied felled a TV in prechromatic zig- zags that know how to watch). This is
fun, I’ve never had such a, a great timed commitment in juniper cotton kicking Latin of that garden.
Distress cooling pre-co-mates
changes, cope leaves derousal
of your inch to fuck be- hind not behind but that I’m not one for anal bleach, by which I mean
Unicorn Arras behind which I get anal
bleached or else look at this grace and tell me
it’s not heavy curtains for success in the
Looks Dept. Clinique is held in a private house. If she’s bedridden, it’s the labia
privately caught in gold geometric earrings,
form- er stolen pearl droplets. Avail- able geometric helpful, who could. Positive freedom born as <<DOW’S UP>> Pebbles sat
in shallow wet sand shapes <<RAIN LYRICS LIPS>> <<Can you make it
home… OK?>> <<Can you, make it home OK?>>
<<Actually I can’t …move from this spot>>
<<What will…happen to you?>> I’ll
suffer from disintoxication. <<What else?>> Blind man’s buff’s demon IT also hold- ing a full cup of tea. I’ll fucking
touch her smooth arm as it nears my chest and, jarring it, all my smooth chest
wet with jasmine; her arm rests,
servicing. <<I was brought up
as…smothered, are you an avoidant too?>> Covered? <<Let’s re- late as a person to a couple wilfully posing near a Dodge’s butter lettering.>> Moral tighter so oyster past hope’s. <<I
mean…not the slightest discomfiture.>>
Desire purple conference while you sex- ualize yourself, in repeat pebbles sat in shallow wet sand shapes of themselves and the tide onyx, because it’s night. Urgent tide in puma’s watery statement eyes, su- icide trick. Purple confers with Vs on bright thigh, take the notes now <<No, she who I would to fuck really respects you, lovebird, giving you credit in my eyes and denying myself something so vague, dispirited as a sheet, and thankless, I can no longer >> Guilty in other respects,
Hemorrhaging, for here having types; can that in melan- cholic cityscapes embrace treeish pubis as she’s bent over in powdering
dead her friend or is he a bathetic scam? Is this flock in situ near how-to her a scam or a charge I’ll keep? What’s exactly like it, a relief
sickle dream where you keep burning in me? No-one’s done so since…Sunrise! <<Shall we let him know I have I…arrived?>> <For the time I
was carried away by the opinion of those among who I was.>> Perpetuate
the jest that invited me, I come scrawny with possible Hog-venom after viewing an installation called Bedroom that was, in decreasing white tile, a true
bathroom. Measure of power, this tone of hero outside as art keeps apparent
severity from spreading it’s Pro- fessional to direct your daughter in a brutal rape scene when I’m trying to look at you like I love you so that you will look
at sickened art ulterior number up, chrome, when triumvirate and nude in Boarding Gate, she goes ahead, whirls scimitar in
psychic concealment or writes rule for a
news- paper, Lips lickt
put to- gether outside blow the ice-cream tune in tunetime with the truck as it sounds a Bomb Pop song. Frozeburn
my gorgeous constrained kicked mouth and useless real free tongue halfway down
Original Bomb Pop Torn to red and clear island What we
often call the intellect cannt blush on
Rosy Cross Pavement’s
too damp As deeply and truly as we want to
neglect the
stupid solicit. I do |
Corina Copp is the author of The Green Ray (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2015), the pamphlet ALL STOCK MUST GO (Shit Valley Verlag, Cambridge, UK 2014), Miracle Mare (Trafficker Press 2013), Pro Magenta / Be Met (UDP 2011), and other works. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Cabinet, BOMB, Prelude, SFMOMA’s Open Space, The Claudius App, Triple Canopy’s Corrected Slogans: Reading and Writing Conceptualism, and elsewhere. A three-part performance, The Whole Tragedy of the Inability to Love, has been presented in excerpts at Home Alone 2, NYC Prelude Festival, Dixon Place, and the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council. She is a curator at the Segue Foundation, and lives in Brooklyn.