sake in the kitchen.
peace and control  .  
   my body decomposing over a slice of bread

learning to see people as objects
pinching together the corners of pages.with nails that need to be
trimmed

scrolling through  screen
girls skinny in their dresses

folding down
with
[waists that are really waisting]

like an oily thumb .tracing
pink lines across a bright white
leg
like a dry tiger.

like youth and destruction in-side an aging murderer's  head

                                               ­                        -like




                          and oh!
                           **here comes a tune fromlong ago

sparks fly off the 3rd rail   .like
winking at the mole-men
          you tighten your belt and      lean a pink ear
on the wall

august comes and goes
in a hop-along head

clock-breath .heaving like the         earth
and dust in sunlight
\

hair in faCe-

lids, part covered over like gauze on a wound

as your zipper eyes are caught in my [ shirt]
3/4s of the way down

a metallic taste
like ******* on a cashier's finger-[tips]

the sandpaper strips at the edge of each stair
as  your head tilts . like
a broken PA speaker on a subway car
pushing static like a jazz drummer

art blakey and the
hiss.

superrich .  call they say,
                      savory as
sputnik sounds through hamradios
in every other basement
in a time [and place]where things are still
in bed

my belief in you is a bar of soap
shrinking .   each time it gets wet

Yeah oh yah, but at least we stay clean

There are things crawling on the ceiling in August
There are bellies heaving in and out

There are faces  pinker than fingernails in August
There are gods and the dying

I am standing in the hallway in August
I am not a god


You liken me to the inside of drawers in August
You shut me and
You line me with  plastic  fabrics

You fill me with silverware and
You disarrange
[.     With courage. ]

The white fan stands on the kitchen floor pointed out the window.
Cleaning chemicals hang like
Jungle.
I have no garden.
Mail is delivered to the wrong address.
I pick at the same zit under the skin until a scab forms above my left
eyebrow

I could be growing tomatoes right now, but I’m not.
The yard faces the wrong way.

I’ve had no time to buy planters.
Work has been rough.

The dog is on edge today.
She is still a puppy.
We speculate that she may go into her first heat (soon.)

i am waking up later
and the trash trucks are coming earlier
on trashday

and
it adds insult to injury to watch them roll away slowly
to the house nextdoor

7:20am on a tuesday,
knowing that it'sstarting again

i met the aging father of an ex-friend in a park.
he had a large bicycle with him

they were always riding bicycles, the whole family.
healthy living. watching less tv. reading more books. doing sports.
he was sitting on a bench
i had recognized him- and in spirit of better days and holding no
illwill,i approached .
we got to talking
and it got to why his son and i had drifted apart all those years ago
i don't think he ever knew the whole story.
i replied with nothing too specific
but later thought about it more .
i decided that
he got tired of the loser's table and i was still content for a bit longer
and yet, to this day, i have never thrown someone’s fish out the bus

window .

they are folded up like my gut,
the papers on the shelf
he reaches to pull them down, and i can feel them fluttering.

[my legs are together]
[my head is soft]
[i am a stain on the chair]

pure living
is cereal for lunch.
one bowl
one spoon
in the sink,
and thats it

home sick from work [with a bug]
the curtains look out further than the yard next door
fog hangs loose about its peak like breath
the dishes in the sink fume up to meet it

the house is dying.
things are dying in my gut.
                       yet fuji stands.

i would be okay if you stained my teeth
with anything
you
had
to offer

horse-whole in the water-
milky for you-
white as cuticles.

like the /**** me/ hum of the A/V cart
hooked up and left running
nothing.
stuffy
in the boxed we built (there)

decorating the tree
with
chemo fingernails(green) like
                                        fair.ies

circling around- laying[like the]
laurels on our heads. trashcan lids:
padding our ears like boxing gloves
love to tap the side of your.trialware
breathing.  my .     looks,brittle as hard
candiesshattering in our unleveled
jaw.lines hoops of you puff over myhome// chimney
tongue/ / . past unshoveled driveways
grassgrown and mowed down

months ago.

its going to be

(cleanlike lungs filling)
good as garden decorations
free as pulling quills from dogs' noses

      [untucking pictures from a shoebox in the closet when you're gone]

my legs crumple against your
belly.ending all
the hair on mine_pin each other
to the hairlessness
and dark
of
your sil t
.
as i break stoney voices against
yourlips like archival spaceshuttle  
recordings
each part _in the
answering hiss

my path,
dividing
outside your body


fingers are finding nothing left to
finger .
it's been
treason   in these years

the plexiglass is yellowing up
betraying it's artifice

the cold has left my feet alone.but
my head is layered with fossils of swimming
lessons and
purple shorts


you.glance at your scarred belly-
marring you with wisdom
.i hold my breath
you flash your ****.
we careen off of eachother's cliffs,
holding harmless in
the
moondampened.

.bare ankles whurring deep inside the forest of night. in dark vale of
cambridge apartment.the window is stuck open; the handle is torn off. they are blowing smoke outside. the floor is wet.and churning below shadowy dionysian heads. muses: finger-laden in the gloaming caverns- are dying. there is a shout. there is a stringing out of things. there is a relative stillness.
happy in the cult of youth. ankles deep in the wastey-water

if you die - gilt bronze colossus :
                chinese take-out
                  chicken fingers
                  box open
right in the middle of town.


everyone will know, what
you knew

it's the kind of self-loathing that just radiates
it's like what i imagine leaving a spoon in the microwave would be like.
it's like wearing a sweater in spring- when the day turns out a lot nicer than originally forecast
and i am just left sweating and fuzzy

"i know that smell"
he said
"those tweety-bird treats from the ice-cream truck-
with those weird gumball eyes
i haven't thought about those since my little-league days
i always ******.

i was young for my grade and very thin and gangly-
i ****** except for that one year, when everyoneelse moved on and

me and that one other kid who was also young for our grade
stayed in the league.
we killed it that year
i'm not proud. but it was our chance to shine

it's amazing how these things can come back to you."

i said yeah

a bit later on my way to the train station, there was a homeless
woman
with oxygen tubes and a wheelchair
just slumped back in that chair. supine. directly in front of the door to the stairs
eyes closed
baking in the (late day) sun

i didn't check to see if she was alive.
i though about it though

he was hit by a tour bus
dragged for a few dozen yards i think
then it rounded the corner and left
him there

thedriver didn't notice.
how could she, so high up there
hand on the PA
eyes on her passengers in the rearview :


•30 or so chinese students in some sort of program
•one fat and badly sunburnt family, the mother with a sloppy drawl
•two older russian men - beards both of them
• a reasonably well-adjusted looking couple with matching hats


meanwhile he there in the road, no longer wore a hat

the other pedestrians were not happy.
less grieved- but more just angry in that generic urban way
cursing and imagining that it could have been them
(no body uses the walk signal anymore)

these baby teeth in little (plastic) baggies
[somewhere in my parents' bedroom]

thedog they never met    ,    teething gently on my fingers and silver ring.
these mornings of getting up.
and days of doing all the daily things,

steak+egg breakfast
front porch clutter
sitting on the rug, looking through rubbermaid bins


          •old t-shirt
          •woolen socks
          •die-cast airplanes


dust in the air and [skin on my palms]
yellow film of last year's pollen over laundry baskets that are no longer mine

8 mouses high
i jump

you let it go to my head. like
hunger.
beside alligator jaws
[and just
          as
   simple]

beneath the weight of imaginary *******

mouth
dumb

filter sponge

you,
exposed gums.
tooth picker.
saline rinse.

it's the aftermath of a change and the street is
quiet.
you look at your old favorite shoes and in the
last minute_pull them out of the trash and into
the trunk of the car.

the basement is full of jackets you don't
  remember.and some you do.

morning is a cotton sheet over
itself.

diffused, you notice storefronts
that  
you never felt like going in

[]
king of the fingers.
decomposing  in the [party scene ]upstairs bedroom
mountains and boulders wear down to things like me when held under
that gaze


you are the ******
and i am the dead that you dress like.
you could reach others .and
i

glowbird knows ∆ he can make it, but
the sun drips warnings in front of
our reticle eyes   ø
           in the dusking smile
           you throw
it                                                   feels

the whites of her eyes are old masking tape.
the rest of the world is likewise

my
teeth     are grinding like wet bark on the
  car door.
leaving behind
paint          to mark off where we've
been.
and to show, in a more general sense, that we existed
     at      all

i see her dying   along with the others

yet
her lips are shining like rug-burn

and
there is something left to be extracted


we imagine my head against her *******
the new milk ruining her blouse for the evening

marbled agaisnt the grey sky

+




its
convenient. the way you stare back
+

i hold harnesses tied from knots of your clothing   . my
fingers are hemp
strands and
you              are weaving more

chordate . wet

dancing, evermingled with
[his enzymes]
you
swept ,,


you let me  past the corners of your hair.

_
the
      dogs roam around in the yard
(still)looking for you

they find nothing but eachother
                               and thats how.




the house plants are drying
                       or stay too wet


there's never any middle ground (with them).


you cease to be
today


like drying vowels out in my mouth before speaking.

++
like waking up with the window left open.

each wink you left behind
     tilts back to let light and air into the

throat.

there's sentient life in the bottom of your glass
you **** civilizations with [the swipe of] a sponge and look up as if nothing at all.

placing the demise of new taxonomic kingdoms onto the counter, you turn to me and repeat the question:

you pose your head like offering a nat-geo ****
aroundthe table
as something valuable
to be
venerated
the sliding screen lights up
offering a piece
of your brown skin

the leaflets are caught in folds that wont  
find any other place to open.

you sunburn like antarctic summer.  eyesglazed inside

+plastic
+basins  

catch it like big pores casting texture from raking angles
you glacier
spark white against cobalt glass

silver ring
oil skin
metal pen
[dishes in the sink/everything]

he, white slice of fingernail
he, like  splinters

the way the light reaches

the free jazz of other peoples' suns colliding out there-
freezing against
                         my low cheeked
                         face

standing cold and dumb in
      december's hairline    _
(the )moon, as thin as skin   .
and i, thinner

what are you about that I'm that I'm that the only jacket at the way you are continuing. want me to advocate in the bathroom window while I'm about to for a for a I'm not sure not sure going to be able.  

buy.
  have not talked values and the typos became more than my blastoise

odds are you getting these images they out so out so ready for bedbug burning scrubby shyness scruff of the same afterwardly word.  dismissingderby. they've regressed into serpentine shying. away . thumb shock.  don't shut up.  don't think.  don't front this.
I'm just now leaving the nursing home soon.

we skitter mouse-long into clanking radiator breaths,
tongue// wrapt around those teeth
                                    like the wet sweater sleeves heavy at your side.
sinking into  auditorium :  my warm blanket full of eyes,
the floorboards chewing on our soles.(as) i scuff your mute fingers
against my cathedral face  
"home" is quaking like stones w/o oceans,
cereal boxes with no prize inside,
like a sudden impulse to buzz your head
.
we cough up a wish, like a cat's superstition:
proto - prayer :
a mammal recognizing its own thoughts as a distinct
operation,
i correct the errors in your dividing cells like [tearing japanese paper.]
ourreligion is the opposite of problem solving.we disprove
ourselves/in order to   grow.
[and stagnate on faith alone]

i'd rather worship myself for knowing i could

we give thanks : for the grip that tears you away from my
handhold

pulling hair out of parted lips like charming serpents from
        wet reeds
  open. <laying>
hernecktwistsdown

and stains me       
         .
our hands
are

dropped bread_dog-natured
and slow.breath
i am dull hammerhead  to your
nail-edge.
i am smoothed out by time and
b l o w s.
the sea knows my
stone(s).like i know your wrist
though i fray at the end of
your
twine-lined teeth:

knees and knuckles
pink w/ youth and .   hurt
and isnt it good to know we can
still scrape something [good]

like bangs across our eyes. like pockets
being played with instead of
looking forward- face front
my eyes, lunge around- across
rays of dust._dead sharp floaters
in a sea of stuffy air

let me learn you like legs
(i notice) under my                         sweatshirt.
                                    pine green

my doki doki is

barking over like the skin of an ancient
creature dying.


and
i remove words from my keyboard's
autocompletion.
i feel decided upon (the worst possible
outcome)
i hold onto arrogance and we





[talk about how to get the real feelings that no one yet has managed to get out of their ******* heads and on to paper or phone screens or whatever.]

it's like understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding
understanding understanding

with dog mouth
with nylon tongue_
like seatbelts
riding up on your stomach.peeling off skin
like a dead favorite jacket just out of
6


unodysseus    a n t i t h e t i c a l .   to hero
grabby and
into serpentine arms.each  with it's
own
fake religion
like a ribcage.putting pressure on the insides-
holding
it
in
-
all

clinging to stonework like a chimney clings to relevancy,
fell asleep before you could send nudes

it's another perfect day out there
and all is
happening .to and around us

it's another perfect day out there
and

self preservation
is an afterthought.
,talk about faces like you talk about an unexpected weather pattern.
it's really clearing up (now)

i'm swampy in your head like ancient fields (how you've forgotten)
the animal bones beneath it all
could tell me [more] about you_
foggy, my feet
roll bashfully        past them.
it's been
like
this              for
at least three breaths
as the grass drys into mammal.hair
as the dirt becomes hallowed by your  cheeks
it's all badly
lit
in a diorama of you.

the photographs won't do enough to
hold you here

normcore kid- head like a buzzcut on

other people. teeth inside his mouth.  moth heavy to the tongue like wings on wet windows.  we won't help him- not knowing he's cool.

i will be filled by the roadside. each passenger holding me steady- aiming at the next letdown.
fingers right around each other.feet together in dumb attention-

it's like seasons (changing)
only more worthlestheyre just here for the
****



around

up to
a mouthy gauze-
a minnow's fate-
a dawnless gurgling-
Minoa-
skin caught in the zipper-
someone else's house-
melatonin-
outdated documentaries-
spilled -
actual bronze-
plexiglass tables-
vocaloid

where morgoths and mongrels
i misss my monsters
thrown lead (sculptures)in the shape of you
scripture breaking off where you
ransomed
beggars cant be choosers but killers can get you
if they want

caught top



World holder!

the lenths at wich pragmatist go to **** eachother
you make getting offended an art form, all the while calling out others as you please

yourfingers brush my arm softly, w/o reason. like
an act of war
my coat stumbles onto your presence
as a drunkard finds peace and
god behind the
   wheel
_the young trees, hemming us in like [the]cold wool against our ankles.
it's been waiting
         to waterlog us.now.for quite some time
//
    i will look no further than your aluminum eyebrows.against
the windows
       here i'll be.    
featureless as
  ever
fearless as the morning.


as we become fauna for future ages to name

her lips curl
the way jungle leaves fold.
hungry for water

parted perfectly to dragg each drop.downwards towards the stems
and dark substrate.

you may think they get enough. the way the rains come
the way the soil gets soaked each time.
yet, glossy plastic sheets everready
for more, present to it.
putting the wet spoon back into the sugar, irreverent to anyone else.

at least. thats the way it looks in the old nat geo magazines i remember holding up to my face.a long time ago.

.

//you've got to stay active.
she says, with eyes deeper than my own bronchitis voice .
shadowy in the way she stirs her cup
stepping over ice cubes with careful tiptoes of her
                                                           w r i s t.


she, there
[like light raking across the sides of pictureframes along the
hallway]
the edge of her jawline drips into my __ mug

steeped into dark


truth is i don't drink much coffee

on the street where this  summer's hippest martyrs rot away
the sidewalks question their sexualities as the sun burns them into
flat .  s l i c e s .   on phonescreens   
//words are my pocketknife in your hand-like a fool trying too hard at someone else's party.
[] as you slide across the polyurethane
holding brand-new hostages at your waist_ trimming them down to swimsuit-season size
                       and style.  
   the air quakes though the [youth like bent corners, ruining photos in ] old magazines .
shivering at the lakeside in full attire
i tank
,having enough of it.


we are seizing_
a
day
    other than this
//

found by an ex roommate of a girlfriend in jewish brooklyn . transplanted from one major american city to the next .
someone else's divorce
slowly replacing someone else's family home.
i move in finally as she moves out in  l a y e r s ,  taking last her cat.

the squeaky floorboards still sound like her.

what do you hear Chavala.
laying hear in the morning, sick.
you find reason to peak up and think
sounds have stirred you and i.
where as before we had slumbered

the instant she opened the front door   .   it hit me.
i was about to blurt out the usual, dont let Chava out
i swallowed the words
Chava was behind me in the car that had just began to pull away.
inside, there was no cat.

later i found myself, conscious of my own lap in a way that knew it was empty.

[the corners of my eyes deceive me around the passing of each threshold ]