A body wants some
body, some more than others
And some none at all

A coupling doubling
effect of the thoughts
ability to produce

Itself again in a
body not too far
away from the self

Like a tool or limb, like an
extension of the brains
primary function to organize

Afterwords, I stuff
myself back
within myself--

pleated coils bending
like knees,
with ease,
like they've been on
tippy toes too long--

A too flexible and
overly sensitive
jack in a box:

One whose chest gets too
excited at the turn
of a handlefull of gears
until the lid
pops off

Again! Again!
wild shouts from
a child tossed
in the air, and
so it goes

I want you to be the only
one to make me ***

Again! Again!
and so it does
for the benefit
of the child

I don't see a future with you,
I never have

Again I find
my heart twisting
instead of pumping,

again with that steady
wrenching *****-****,
****-****, ****-****

Again the train makes
a standard stop at what
the **** am I doing

So I get off.

Dinshaw argues that
the text is feminine and
the writer masculine but what
does that have to do with anything?

Good lord, the frilly words make
crochet lace and the others
make the rest-- now doesn't
that make sense: a scent
of cents means money!

The sign of the signified says: Why
the **** is this happening? You read
into me and translate accordingly but
can't seem to interpret a bit of it like the
first poem in Zong, but I'm not sure if you'll
remember what that quite looks like

You reading rather feminine lace
together an image of Mulcahy from
the Coombe that's not a bit like the
man! With a laugh who could
blame a drunken thought?

All the stupid girly **** gets dealt
with in a familiar manner stripped
bare teeth tearing the cloth in the process
of progressing to **** it like the little
**** it is: exactly how it deserves

Your moon princess turns
into folklore where nothing
is left but an ancient language
written in a mother tongue
in languish whilst unspoken.

You read languidly like
sparknotes slow speed reading
some well known notion readily

Of me standing stark naked
--out of clothes-- at a
random station

There is a violence in translation.

A moon princess
prepares
for her coronation:

She wakes early
every morning to
chant ancient songs,

remains a light turned
on, a bright good morning
from winter to spring;

leaves offerings of her
tears and laughter
at the alter with care;

fasted, washed her face
and hair and danced naked
in the stream from day to night.

After turning away from
herself she turns
back with rosy cheeks:

A moon princess
prepares
for her crown:

she wears the webbed
melody of singing
stars strung together,

she hums and resonates
her body begins to harmonize
her voice turns to gravity:

she can speak
she can think
she can hear;

her hand outstretched
to the people, her
love refined

A mother bird sat and
sent another mother bird at
some other burning tent

So away she went

At what point
does coincidence
become not so

Say the thing about
energy being everything
is true then

At which frequencies
do numbers ring?

Another dream
of the other me being
a super ****
-jellyfish hand
floating unt
ut up-

Hatred for
started strategized
conversations-
conversion converted
conviently ate up,
satiated and satisfied

Ante added up
in a slipshod
sweatshop for

Permission to hanker
on some buttermilk
slopwork with

A frump finery of sorts
laundered nicely:
a down gown

A pair of young palms: one
bends to kiss the other
in the passengers seat.

A young she at the time
leans like a tree: only in
the extremities, while

palm fronds flick and flutter
shirt hems and tongue tips,

Wait, stop--

Words in haste laid
to wait against the force
of a singular intent to
bend a tree trunk.

Words are less
convincing than
demonstration,

are ineffective against
strength and conviction

Apart a part
partnership apartment
in the armpit of
the army

Arms arming
apart a part
artfully
artlike
ark like
covenant:
partners partly
apart

A poetical set
of two clauses

or something
-I've never been
good at math-

(speech as
is before it
implies any
poetry)

(the indeterminate,
aleatory
in nature fully
rid of all
things prose)

do they
intersect?
at which point
does X differ
from Y and
does the
M ***** upwards
or down?

checks and
reworking

I've never
been good
at math

A poet must produce some
type of lust in their words

To slurp up sloppily some
light red meat juice

A *** bubbles
up and under
the shaky lid
clamped shut.

As a child,
my mother would
chide me for

lifting the lid
of rice and
stirring too early.

I was letting
out all the
steam.

But the bubbles
sticky white and
bursting over begged

to be released.

For a time,
my body was
not my own.

I boiled,
simmered,
then cooled.

Lifted the lid,
scraped the sides,
and stirred.

A *** puts
a lid on its
big mouth

to shut it up
and keep that good
hot stuff in.

There's a time
and place for
heat and steam:

Facials and saunas
and geysers but

nowhere else

A push might pull
if asked nice enough

A pull could give a
push if invited to do so

The nature of a thing
is very flexible and
malleable like hot glass

A reinforced complex:
A ***** might ****
with, but doesn't
necessarily want

Me: a common
denominator that
stirs interest, but

Not much else

Are you done
making waves in
my body yet?

It doesn't like
to be upset. My
heart can't take it--
in the literal sense.

It's like why I can't really
listen to heavy metal music
even though I can listen to pretty
much anything else. There's something
about the vibrations that make my heart hurt,

and it's the same with you.

Are you really not afraid of losing me?
At all?
Kinda *****.
A little?
Kinda hurts.
Not surprising.

Arms and
sleepers
lurking amongst
us:
happily
and unaware

You don't put
a gun on
stage if you
don't plan to
use it

Trigger words

And then
gunshot wounds

Upon arrival it smells
exactly as it should,
or only slightly different
than how it ought to

it should be
equal too; not you
like a morning mood
it can be a fickle youth

A poem lays:
a floor
It asks: what
am I naked for?

~
Beauty the incunabula
—first traces—of poetry

Feelings—known but unnamed—
spurned from the sublime


~
So fine
the lines
widening

like child’s
eyes before
fruit

ripening,
before it’s
known what
right is

any
good for you
—as mud for
elephants—

Snacks at
noon

Ashtray astronaut
drifting around the
nautical stars

Knots in his stomach
and shoulders for naught,
he sticks his little flag in slots

Alas,
the poem
reaper
has been
begotten

And
set loose

Not even
ink can
live
forever

At times I think
to write you some
dumb love verse like:

...to feel you pull me closer
in our sleep, as if you were to
keep me for more than the night...

And in that pause I see that it is
indeed some dumb love rhyme, so I
decide to **** my words swiftly with a
sharp, definitive line

Avoid force with
such tender bodies

Bound board by
board of senses  
and sensations
mek it set like cold
to snow

So be tender
with sensitive skin:

A coat keeps
warm in winter wet,
Stay singing and soft,
jovial in Springsun

Aware of
the hot
and cold
sides of
my heart

Remain
in one
place,

homeostate
—erode them
away— into
cardiomy-
apathy

Manage with
a balance of
beta-blockers
and ace-inhibitors

Prognosis:
still to slip
into syncopal
states, tacky
cardiac
elevated rates

Baby got thighs
like she ain't afraid of gluten

Way she put it down
like a law, like Newton

Bananas (n).

The things with a curve,
a little thick and firm and squishy;
durable outer cover for protection

Basic
mathematics states:
it's just two
bodies
-merging into
a finite set
temporarily-
equating
to two bodies
again

Beauty the
incunabula
-first traces of
anything-
of poetry

Feelings
-known but
unnamed-
spurned
from the
sublime

Better is better, but
not necessarily good:

Do I deserve better
or goodness?

Why can I not
tell the difference?

Bike
tryke
unicycle

Pedalling
with both feet
and no hands
-gaudy helmet
for safety-

Still inevitable
the blackness and
scratches of
pavement

Ride or die

Bitter pill picnic
tables set to
prepare the
banquet

Pilgrims gorge until
pillow stuffed
full of itself
and doubt

Doubled over tummy
ache: dummy done
did to itself
-regrettably-

Pillow fluffed and
mattress flipped
to fight the
mighty itis

Breathing expands the
belly and the roots

At the top of the head
contracts the greater force

Extends into the toroidal
field until they resonate

A little higher, a little tone
sharpener, a little lquiet

Flask emptied,
half-full still

cup runneth
over

Can a poem crunch
like a carrot in toddlers
teeth, chewed up quickly?

Can I get a hit?
Reverse sniffles, white dragons
flew straight to the head

Cheap (adj).

How your mother thinks
you look in that outfit

Child eyes
used to spin
the skies into
cotton candy
tasty cloud
nines

Cold front
approaching
-shivering,
shaken carten
left out too long,
sweating-
La niña
-soft and
warm-

Inevitable collision,
crumpling and
languished
intermingling

-milk spilling
upon the
counter top-

Constitution pollution:
the constable ruining
the ******* consecration

A soluble solution:
grape sipping blood
letting to fully bless
the humors

Could
or would?

Shook from
the pages
of books,
wood
so thin the
ink peeks
through
due to

Sun so
bright the
blood peers
through
skin so
taut the
veins stay
blue

Third tooth
chillen on land,
dryness

Details and pretty things
the strongest of foibles at hand

And on the other some amount
of certainty about the self, and
how it should be run and
perceived by others

She walks and
they watch:
a detail herself,
a pretty thing

**** so small
that **** look like some *****,

******, ******:
one, two, three