if blood fed earth
the flavor of years
fed the sound of your name
attributed to another
the shifting pleasure, my precariat
spontaneous assumption
as in heaven-perfect data
as in hello touch
to blush up night — as I, less,
relax in attentive blindness
swollen in noise
with a strategic “grief”
for the air present shifts
joins a call — salient
for “sorrow” mimes “sadness”
in brushstrokes equal
the fabric darned “pain”
to motivate forfeit days
as my place mouths a pattern
alike — an arable network
interprets quick flowering, the inheritance
the mirror set, the bacterial kind
so to hold coin and play
until extinction — as if digesting
the rhythm of pleasure
fit alone, how to unfold
one day in expression
as the model mutates, builds
as the song instinctively breaks —
the heartclap chimes
the unmanageable pitch
pith, blotted tone —
the unsayable structure
software of my decline
rushed, upstep of days —
days lard uncertainty
and intercept style that way
surfeit upset ferment of force —
eyes, lips, a slack cock
scrubbed from contact
in yonder attachment
for the low tuba of
advanced nostalgia meets the story
bred by “design”—
mapped in untamable days
as my real size slowly renders
the drama of annihilation
inches mouthward as I
read your eyes and again try
(the homesick ribbons throb)
among friends as familiar as sky
eats through a yearbook of shorebreak
contortions come, post-wreck
emote as you appear — as you disappear
and the rising response rate
hugged by degrees, replicates
changes the feed, thanks the curtaining now
and greets the curtaining then
in code, in strident forms
the poplar branches
bursting into flames
I said, “I’m a regular”
telegraphing fear
the violet sprouts first sprung
green with impersonal bloodshed
greener as the public bump grew
the inflow as such to milk destiny
might you badmouth touch
if the stencil of debris could be
more like the debris itself
as I couldn’t dismember the format—
the format of your face, the sneer of April
as April meant the large shadow
of a cracked windscreen on you
to sear in history what happens
the last time you / the first time you
click in thought
break into service, saying
I want to live but
I don’t want to live
in weaponry, the cold labor
light snow of conversion
sting of distinction
what we is joining
cast of sun shaping
the shape of habits of habitats
the critique of love, slapped
that it is with you still, stopped
in sites of devotion
the domains of obsolescence
in lessons of calm
the prosperity sickness, the world forest
of my (m)other tongue
word for another world
to collaborate with distance
groom this machine hair
glean new flesh from the starter —
ore from the mines
with this medium feeling “I’m in
the wrong time”— this drip
soaked through the rug
and you, in conclusion, roses
the task of loss, the feeling
set in the ground, my immunity
the sentiment you are
wash away days
the money in you — to be seen
avidity and constraint, even you
impressed, touched, re-
touched — irretrievable — you
kiss off this wish —
to “give up wanting
what other people have
that way you are safe — ”