“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