Tim Wells, Todd Moore, Niall O’Sullivan. London 2006.
I had the honour
of hanging out with Todd Moore for a couple of days when he came over to London a few years back. All I really knew of Todd Moore was from the terse Dillinger vignettes that appeared regularly in Tim Wells’s Rising magazine. The poems [...]
when dillinger
fired a
machine
gun burst
he acci
dentally
shot a
crow
then the
dead
bird fell
into the
weeds
near him
& its
blood
splashed
into his
shadow
the second
dillinger
grabbed the
machine
gun off the
table &
turned
billie clicked
the kodak
then reached
for his
crotch &
while he
was ducking
sd maybe
you’ve got
a machine
gun but i
have yr face
& baby
you know
what that is
it’s the
american
dream
Some days I am more haunted than others.
Some days my face paints all the mirrors so black the glass screams in fear of its blindness. Some days my face gets into car windshields and turns them a so viciously dark they want to shatter outward into skin. Some days my shadow plans all the [...]
a
dillinger stood
behind billie
& slipped
the machine
gun into
her hands
then she
glanced
back at him
is it loaded
always
dillinger re
plied &
added
how does
it feel
heavy she
sd any
thing else
yeah
she sd
smiling
i wanna
fuck some
thing up
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