Even loss
gives up

No god called me into this poem.
No god
calls me out.

A tooth looking for your mother is not the same as a tooth searching. Lived experience is our jawless god’s highest fraud. Dear squirrel, we don’t eat creatures made of ghost worry. Future is the aftermath of the future. I’m ugly in heaven.

in the blue church of my father’s thirst

I wear it

(hunger)

like an eye-patch, and emerge

starless

from the uncooked blood
of my shadow

film 3

Tell them this was handwritten. Tell them Ohio locked itself in the bathroom to imagine deer. Tell them god’s eyesight was too still. Tell them I couldn’t sleep. Tell them I couldn’t die, but that I bled to sleep in a field I was eating. Tell them the field is gone. The field is gone, they believe.

I lose in the dream

each child
in a way
I’ve imagined

film 2

I am everyday older than my brother. Those years I did not have him, he did not have me. Gods die in the star they sleep in. There are eyes in my sadness when I look at my sons.