You died and ever
thing
was left

designed I designed a thumb and with it started the scarecrow’s collapsed church of celibacy

designed my doglike creature designed for a deer a memory using only those sounds taught to god by cars driven at night by blow-up dolls mourning the pink life of mimes

designed we designed a drunkenness that could breathe for a hole and the hole filled us with crickets and teeth

designed the cricket designed a classic hummingbird too stunned by the non-miracle of beast to leave the pecked eye of christ for the prayer of stillness darkened by a specifically timeworn crow done with being three times the size of god

designed god designed the same creatures as god

I had my honeyed life

designed my weakest son designed, ah

designed my passing designed passage through tapeworm’s nightmare of permanent stars

designed this poem designed the idea that a cricket could leave something in the future and get it back

tattoo
a wasp
its father

You cannot count people whose fingers are worried. Eternity eats a clock in paradise. Touch can’t write. Bliss is a trap. Imagine having the perfect day. Perfect forgetting. I really wanted to like that book. Some rice, some wristcutting. My son disappears but only when I think about him. I sang in church and spelled words correctly. Jesus got close to passing out but in the end had to fake it. I held small jobs in the basements of movie blood warehouses. When not dying I felt odd setting in a hospital an alarm that would trigger no meaning. Wim Wenders is a no notes name. God isn’t much. Silence in the bomb’s empty stomach.

God recorded nothing

came first
plastic
then
immoral
loneliness
then
said a whale
to a whale
scratch
your eye
with mine
we’ve seen
for weeks
god
pass
for silence
in the apple
death
of brief
eels

I scroll
To where my son
Isn’t dead

Or past
Or past

designed our brother designed a bathtub that couldn’t hold itself in any position long enough to keep god’s gaze in the injured overlap of stillness as paroled by a creator stuck in a shape-addicted form

designed our sister designed her sister as a crying joke inside of a third sister whose hearing loss created the moon

designed the moon designed an egg to break the ribs of the moon