on firearms and ammunition and adolescence
to implement this change: we will update our process
sell bump stocks high-capacity magazines
broke applied filled personified we also do not sell hurt
before purchasing flames they seem to pass the background check
requiring customers to be splashed and responsible curios
to mingle responsible writing include sportsmen
and toys our heritage as the company slips the cross into the satyr
“The poem is always a record of failure.” Ben Lerner
accidō
transitive – I fall down, upon, at or near; descend.
intransitive – I happen (to), take place, occur, befall.
last december in america
being bullet or vacuum
or various plane crashes
in orlando but its not unusual
americans the fbi this level
people daily death in accido
in america people attack americans
people attack busses accido buses in
america trucks motorcycles accido
every day an american dreams of killing
killed by a few at a time guns accido
california shot death rates include
losses from gun homicides and
every million people san bernardino
homicides are common death
in america guns include common
arms as uncommon cause
of accompanying causes dye
deadly die homicide deathly many as
many as many as many as many as
many as die from guns and suicide
annual events in a typical year help highlight
how exceptional companies cause gun homicides
highlights exceptional attacks nearly nearby
as many as die from guns
annual rates in america than
then than then right how now
exceptional accompanying tables show
populations of companies table shootings
as many as many as many as
provide numbers control disease
as many recent studies osculate a-
round developed countries
we are rare and high
articles choosen between
countries and studies and
the top of gun death instead
shows the differences and are
as many as many as many as caused
international overall arms
accido neighboring nations
were not meant to number
at the barbarous difference statistics
on american gun deaths fair from far
as a way to provide death
the united states and developed countries
the united states developed countries
the united states developed
the states developed
developed states
states state ate
in a gun death
light closes parts
of anima mundi
Sources:
Relief in this return to normalcy—that I could stop thinking about this “other world” of unknown bird sounds.
the middle age’s language garden
petals once because golden soil
means plant and not the altar devil’s
flowers heat pluto into third eye sight
grow sometimes invasive on winter
days in your high and like a layer
of flowers with sidearms you
wants in the sea spike a wonderful
well—for it is otherwise missing
to a true black hollyhock they can
be invasive corn is nice black
decorative heralds a middle age
the cottage of pollen with no petals
a week’s bees but the seedhead
picks off other gifts flowers an ape
and perennial dried goods
cut flowers bloomy red hot soppy
large round and marry mordant spiders
“saffron, crocus sativa”
frank take the plastic bag off yr head
poets planted light here not people
poets with banana plants for tendons
or poets’ armies of thick carbon fiber killers
faces loaded with pulverized crocus frank
bring me proof of meaningful life
beyond the gun range poets frank
were sown in victory’s forehead
frank you listening when was the last time
you went a-fishing from south beach pier
rainbow trout gasping like dandelion frank
reciting rebecca lindenberg as you adamantly
burn through the last filament of air
are you mournful or war wise
I for what it’s worth buttstock bipod flash
guard rather a dry wise cactus frank
whose dusty broach crawls forth
like a foul hand toward the sun
begging always
begs like a
beggar
i was there beside you, warm but it wasn’t enough, something warm pulling apart my skin there, they fell like paint peeling off store-bought canvas they fell we fell and now they stand, broken—bottled—in opposition to something fallen and warm for themselves, only, for what else is there but life? a hat, cracking concrete, drinking the fountain of these fonts, so righteous, standing back to back like crimefighters guns drawn, guns drawn, guns drawn against the sunrise.
12162013
1. “Ashuver Sixlio”
2. “As I failed to shoot the dog”
3. Lot of dreams tonight. I curse myself for not waking to sketch them along the way. But last among them:
On the streets of NYC, with Andrew as sort of assistant, photographing the street. Lots of people. Smiles but also secret shooting of the homeless and glamorous at perfect unobserved rest. Anyway, at some vague point we encounter a group of 8 to 10 girls aged 16 to 22 (I intuitively know/guess) and they start to follow us. Flirting at the same time annoying and gadflying. We welcome the attention, the company, the shared energy, but they are a distraction, clogging the sidewalk as we try to navigate through without too much negative juju coming our psychic way.
Andy and I stop at some point to deal with an equipment issue and the sirens swarm, smoking, making my lens change more difficult than it needs to be. One of them, a young brunette all soft lines, most devious bodied, the youngest, most supple bodied, stands in front of me. Me, two feet from her burning Camel Light. The sweet smoke passing between us without burning my eyes. She won’t stop talking; so much more than talking: sexualizing forth, weaponizing, poking me with her untouchable womaness. Clouds me. And I’m trying to change that god damned lens, not let any of her smoke into the camera body. Fuddling with lens caps.
An ash, like a perfect snowflake (it had been snowing now IRL for two days), falls from her cigarette to her dimpled chin and, as if that ash were a universally understood cue, I kiss her lips with such quick aggression that she takes a step back. Unbalanced/shocked. Gives me a moment of much-needed distance.
The hip girls all snicker and chat, one says something to no one: “Oh my god, she’s only 15.” But no harm done. I lock in the wide angle lens and we all move on.
