I think about my friends they may be dying — who would tell me now? — when a woman in airpods wool hat and long black coat asks Which way to the target? and I point over railroad tracks You’re welcome. so happy and lonely.
TIMELY FEATHERS
easy. It's pretty so flustered or mottle-tufted,
wronged, came Till transformation and companion.
deny bail or pretrial so coupled, married, where
fern owl, The Baltimore and relinquishes
of violent crime, $24.00 a long way into WATERBORO,
feeding on works like RADIATING Giroux,
So that the sister who was forced so harried, government
all that he kills,
TOUCH museum of one And no one asks
silent approach BESET resting Bill unleashes a torrent of
Beach
movement within the frame movement within the rods and cones? what a kind blue green red morning to magnolia and fresh cut peripheral systems a place to sit a place to second guess time aches backward thicket synaptic cleft slow pink throb of traffic stalled movement within the chittering frame of traffic within the blue green red morning man entertaining still
extra edges slumber breaker today everyone cones and rods time what a patient thicket synaptic pink throb of traffic stalled bus within the frame of movement of traffic stalled
entered the question lines and points? what kind of camouflage causes the eye to magnolia? what a kind man. did ellsworth kelly want to magnolia and fresh cut the peripheral systems in this place to see the other man the blue green red man jersey cut & hungry grass seventy degree slide backward the frame traffics in movement within the frame the kind man the frame neuters bus movement stalled by rays and fresh aches return sharply through one frayed speaker
repetition of natural objects through cantilevered strips of private change and salt religion drawn to demon serials it’s like all people are afraid of nature
object not a thorough repetition it’s like a feather or a penthouse the world reinvents the word then image
nesting palms
prepare branches
of sin
i’ve always been drawn to relaxation
it’s like empathy in motion
so you create description
who’s driving?
slow motion described by real work casino salt lick religious relaxation of nature object of repetition who’s driving? private description
it’s like a feather a penthouse luck appears as a 60-foot-tall demon its cantilevered private breath describing change charge and nature
compliant cosmos: i peel your offer from my body—molted down melted down—bracelet-thing heras through the suburbs i say i had some in my mouth—
weekend speech, strips of resin of mfa of repellant, delicate plot of us.
my diamonds prayer the grey splash across rampart of fire hope blood redoubling about acceptance it is deep et adhuc sub iudice lis est he days up in the defensive present
someone our works of fire reach for moss with slim time god’s lefthand plausibility reaches afore to better days
the picturewomen that brought the fair says the flare of mysterious sun nests in blood. the same age i waited for you in the girls we could break into goodness. like as in loved. asleep. you die. no sun in roots and whiskey and seems fair though therfucking the place up, tangled in a ghost—hieroglyphics i dream of spider blood. like love, with its finger on the bar, i dream of you at scale, just a kid, really, laughing in place. tangled in a ghost—hieroglyphics i come to understand the girls we made you soak in barnight. i come to nests of you instead. i say lookout with its clear finger. what’s new? drugs wet with clear-air always sitting in nests of mysterious spiderstands they’re sitting out fucking you with stars. nest of mysterious sun. the girls we loved. asleep. you instead say, stay, i look for you, you, you in rootblood. the fair thought-fish, painted-ghost—hieroglyphic dream of mysterious sun in rootblood. the fucking on and ever clutch a dream like love ever asleep. you in roots and nest of sun in roots and place, tangled-in, but older. the same eventualities, laughing off of my fucking stars. i come to the coast, no one’s i light say, i drown in roots and instead, instead, instead. i stood lookout with tears. i come to understand blood. loved. asleep. you instead. i theater the barstool look for you where no sun in the blue-black sea they’re impossibly large spiders. i say, i dream of a mysterious man in a good mood. through the nests of wet fingers clutch the bar rag covers neon clutch at midnight, i look for yourself. good. the blue-black thigh, terror fingers the bible like a ghost—hieroglyphic dreams of tears’ stars. nests of example; eventually the fucking stars. the ripping of an abandoned highway, i dream of oscillating black preserved in some anonymous monkey’s heart, drown in neon; came on eventually, flicked really, laugh—they’re just stars on a path. flare of mysterious roots now love asleep—you, subsumed by coast.
