Today you were
anguished, with what ordered sentence to fray
into organization. Shimmering splendid thigh
of noon numbered, overtakeless I peering
through a gray eye of storm. Ambulatory motors
whir double ballasting ground / AC Cortez was nothing like any other held captive loosely frolicking
the summer gone through a bat of an eye
reimagined, engraved into / what for is this
inheritance but a dangling stucco of a home. Else
the newfangled man will have skin ripe to borrow
denying the statement. I could no longer raise
tomorrow and fall for, a form broken in
by a crossing of the river I smell turpentine
bearing the casualty of paint because color when
seen as absence of something, a thing worth
mooring to where we were and kept
for the next docile minute, mourning what but
a closed preserve drowned by a hand
deep between what was once just once and
a continuing strangeness, one's own rearview
but insatiable affront. Today you were
spoken of, not to, once again this weather
is here heavy with debris, less than ash fit for
return curious as perfume clinging to
soiled collar learning every breath a crevice the
body seeks to fullness feeding on some sense
of abandon -- today's news gasp for clearing
which you weighed in today as you were
again and again and again just as sound is
but a remainder of a tremendous leftover.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Today you were
anguished, with what ordered sentence to fray
into organization. Shimmering splendid thigh
of noon numbered, overtakeless I peering
through a gray eye of storm. Ambulatory motors
whir double ballasting ground / AC Cortez was nothing like any other held captive loosely frolicking
the summer gone through a bat of an eye
reimagined, engraved into / what for is this
inheritance but a dangling stucco of a home. Else
the newfangled man will have skin ripe to borrow
denying the statement. I could no longer raise
tomorrow and fall for, a form broken in
by a crossing of the river I smell turpentine
bearing the casualty of paint because color when
seen as absence of something, a thing worth
mooring to where we were and kept
for the next docile minute, mourning what but
a closed preserve drowned by a hand
deep between what was once just once and
a continuing strangeness, one's own rearview
but insatiable affront. Today you were
spoken of, not to, once again this weather
is here heavy with debris, less than ash fit for
return curious as perfume clinging to
soiled collar learning every breath a crevice the
body seeks to fullness feeding on some sense
of abandon -- today's news gasp for clearing
which you weighed in today as you were
again and again and again just as sound is
but a remainder of a tremendous leftover.
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