Phenomenology of Giving


     

Mary Kasimor

       
       

old fire plums



from this MIRROR of COMmerce I
WILL give yoU 
EveryThing 
PIECes of THE Ocean
Of PIE from MY tongue 
a graph of my
HEART

Nothing 
more is FOR you Who 
Will NOT TAKE my SILence anymore SO
I play THE DRUMS 
NEXT to 
THE reVERSIBLE Blue
That lies NexT to a POEM that never
REVERSES itSELF 

the PLAID bomb MAY
Kill You I'll GIVE something 
IN EXCHANGE
for the DISTANCE 
betWEEN us a touch OF
CLARity as reviewed IN the Book OF
THE Living the PLUMS 
on the Tree TASTE
Best when They Have been ShakEN 

the WIND is
A disTANCE From MUSIC 
CLOSEST to The Brain in 
THE Department of 
LEAVING I have left MY
BED and my SKIN also A 
BUTTERfly Pressed
INTO my NECK

I also BEQUEATH my CRuELTY
NECESSARY for the Art of LIFE 
a miXTURE
Of ASHES from the OLD FIRE 
PRIMordial
From the LOVE that I left 
AFTER we Killed each OtHER
 
what was LEFT was
A silver RiNG thrown in AMONG 
Egg Shells And The BIZarre 

ArrangementS 
of UNcertainY
THAT we nEVER GOT 
Past GivEN to 
A SchisM in THE Family 
THE future
IS fact (Art) InterrupTED 
and THE CAT Ate
The MOUSE 

the WORLd 
survives ON
BITS of CheESE and ROTTen breath
THE Kiss is STIll and SWEET