[windowless the museum of weight loss]

brother puts the basketball under his shirt so he can light my cigarette.

we born
to miss
animals.

[under god]

we are photos
of a dreamless
fact

[annihilatives]

this dream again where no one likes me

the overeater I sleep for

[infancy]

who is my brother?

a boy
fishing
from a ruined
helicopter

–

where is my sister?

being seen
by a ghost

–

am I alone?

dumbfounded
by rest

–

has anyone called my mother?

these tracks belong to the animal

drinks
from your father’s

bowl

–

is there a name?

for some
words

–

tell me there’s a church.

small to a turtle

[upside]

/ this talk of home

/ bush of the hissing baby

/ snow

that can see
blood
in the dark

/ events

my body
held

/ first haircut,

broom, crucifixion

[boy lord]

boomerang,

the toy of the lonely and the gospel

of the weak
dog…

perfection
is bad
art

Traps set to trap us
the trappings we all think
we need
and
while the sand's running out
we're all off out
looking for more traps
to trap us.

I retreat
back into the shell
let the sea swallow me
no one could tell
I was here at all.

Naked came I
and naked I'll go

if ya wan' bling and ting
shackled by a golden ring
to tie yourself,
but by yourself
be my guest
this conch not impressed

belongs to belongings?
be longing before too long to long for more.


I'll never understand it
If I live to be ninety or senile
so
no use in me trying
at least I'm not dying
for the latest
for the new improved greatest
for the next generation before this
one is over

at best at my worst
I am cursed
by
never asking the
right questions.

I remember that spring
That summer
I was asked for color
You have forgotten your gloves...

یادم می آمد
آن بهار را
آن تابستان را
از من می خواستند رنگ بزنم
...دستکش هایت یادت نبود

everything of
me was choir-song

every bolt of
air,
every summer
moon,
every drop of
cooling rain,

in spring i
melted like
a hedgerow,
in gold and
sky-bronze,

in summer i
gathered the sky
to my branches
green with shadows
of longing,

in autumn i trembled
downwards like a
girl unwinding her
hair,

and in winter i froze
on the doorstep
all black branch
and cold
rigging on
a barren ship,

everything of me
was choir-song and
i had the most
beautiful
purple throat,

i was a soft
melody of love
on a strange
moody day.

i collect stamps
not the mail kind
not the male kind
not the may hill kind
not the mayo ill kind
not the may hue kind
not the maim yew kind
not the mwaya view kind
not the mwayam myeil kind
not the amaway yilovski kind
not the mynsigwi malomisten kind
snot snee smail skind
rot tree trail rind
trotsky braille grind
hot bree hail's tine
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
­kind
mail
mali
alim
liam
ailm
ailm
ailm