what’s offered is gladly taken, but first
must be kissed numb

;


.
that which shall be given to collect in pools into the recesses of your topography

is not allowed on television

they say that no two sets of ear folds are alike. that each one has a unique “fingerprint” profile to the exact pattern of rolled cartilage bunched up in soft ridges -much like what the lifework of rivers leave upon the shifting face of the earth.

but i can’t help in
thinking that
we alone hold
a
perfectly matching set
of soupcans
in the whistling dark of this tree-house
night

and if
ever
the taught line go slack,
let it bring comfort still, to the last brushing-up
against the expertly crafted sinew of your word-worlding
throat

like.a call from inside the house
their          prickling
    sediment
  deposit
upon
              her.chordate lineage.its
                  taxonomy.it’s
                    telling time. an
   

e x h u m a t i o n     of
    pores:
       pathways


                     she,      the
=part.hungry
    receptacle

         as
.they rake all delicacies
                            // pressed        
        backwards \

as willing substrate

in howls
in smoke signals           and
in trembling lungs.

starving, it swallows her offerings_
licking at wounds with certain intent
   as easily
as the lapping up of these gleaming beads      
         caught running, with
         equal      deliberation

there were uncounted, beautiful things
housed in scuffed plastic bins, clicked shut tenuously
in a perfectly harmonized disarray of
                       continuation

and i’ll never forget going through those treasure boxes
with a wonder

both somber and
rapturous

it’s nestled in deep :
that thing that was
planted
then