
“with my skin / Plus this—plus this: / that forever the geography / which leans in / on me” Charles Olson
to grab the reader by the balls to force it to sculpt my bellicose cleavage in the whitespace under the image to demand pedagogy and aloofness had coupled in the unified field and born “THISS” (quoting Olson & Graham) to imply the blue of the sea, or Kings Plaza gray and untouchable, or a wild uninterpretable sidecar tongueing Uigeadail to insist casual, black, non-fear loosening a necktie to guarantee through decay and whitehot kidney stones and vomit-crested cry — bandanaed and ever so scrawny — that yes, yes, I still shred