“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