This piece, a companion to Interrogation, was compiled using a method I quite like, whereby a previous work has chunks of text (no longer than a line) randomly moved around and mixed up, over and over. After the blending, harsh edits are made, and a pared-down, 'new' poem emerges. Previous Butchered Switch poems employing this method include H O W L and Mynifesto. Enjoy!
Interrogation II
Here is how the world ends,
everything
speaks:
The deform tree,
the angels,
that secret home.
The touch burns our focus
wavers.
Taste that man-specter
whom defect works to speak to.
But where’s the home?
Maybe in ‘stone.’
A personal rune:
the stone wafts poetry.
Error my poetry.
Tree: the empty form.
Revolve upon us
Tree,
we keep sucking.
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