Still Trembling Trophies – Daniel Harlow

March 7, 2021

The sun set earlier than yesterday

seeping me in
somewhere in a figurative sense?
How does one become
divine complacency?

Drunken slumber wakes me from my sober earnestness.
Is self-creation
an abstract consideration? Do I exist
How can one be understood by others when one is still in the process of understanding oneself?
what one is?

My thoughts were seminal, spermatic. Still trembling trophies. A sun set pulled up by its bootstraps. An internet sense of humour but with guns. The twilight girls working their pitch where matter was made feeling in the trembling of the instants. My persistence, a donkey beaten in a Turin square. The far-away angels abound again lacking sense like a pulsing vein. Widespread fraud described in pursuit. My persistence. Instants trembling.

I was drifting but not in my movements. In pursuit of my own ignorance and significant undoing, existential on the Odessa steps. In the air dictated on my knees I was moved to sing across the Vasco De Gama bridge. A melancholic suspense in the air, a monument to the March dead. Dying in the arms of loved ones. Murdered by a nation of husbands. A melancholic suspense in the moment. In. Over. I was spilling. The night came in close

continued
begging to see another day.
earlier than yesterday.
made
in contortions of fuckery and plagiarism.
I was

Murdered by a nation of husbands. By those who won out in the treaties. In drifting moments trembling. When the night came in close ignorance continued the Odessa steps. I described the pursuit on my knees in contortions of fuckery and plagiarism. Made voiceover trophies. But with guns. Made matter feeling in the trembling of the instants. Ignorant. Still trembling.

A monument to the March dead.
in the moment.
in the air dictated.
the sun set on my persistence.
earlier than yesterday.