[removal musics (xxi)]

the agreeable loneliness
of dog
and the detail
I don’t
go into-

binoculars
and the neck
of christ-

~

[suggested titles]


nothing goes through puberty quite like the hands of children who keep track of god

-

for every cutter born in an Ohio treehouse,

-

an infant becomes attracted

-

I got a splinter.  someone gave me a goldfish  

-

for what image have you taken root

~

[in the toy aisle making a promise to my hands]

footprint
a gift
oh if bird
could nightmare

~

[removal musics (xxii)]

the first thing an ant does is close its eyes. of the three people who identify your body, all are god. no one was meant to write.

~

[response musics (v)]

the splinter in your wrist
you start to worry
is it warm
no one
gives birth
while you’re
asleep
so what
you can’t describe
an action scene
to god

~

[response musics (vi)]

what would I say
but there were people
and I was sad

why would it return
this once
your sister
acting out
rabies
in private
and why

were we there
how much
glue

is a scar
of glue