Selected Poems II



     

Daniel Y. Harris






Stem 200


C.u/T the mi from the marriage of tosis and macramé
and get danglers who leave early and go back. Prog.e
or nit.ors? Nothing like a day away in sensory triage.
We’re here to replenish adult tissue, as with any cell
turn.oVer/ed to live. The yesterday p/O.em has been
mugged and beaten. Blood-skin rejuvenates E.lbows.
We, as one among the induced pluripotent, p.L.e./X 
at your intimidating size. Hey, M.Auto Logous, Eddy
missed his curfew. They remember the prex-peri.ali
period drilling into the bone of femur and lilac crests. 
How weak is their advice to give a prompt? Adipose
requires blood be drawn. Memes are our contextuals:
self-renewal is a glassy overhead. This c/onVocation
is our potency. Tenabrae factae sunt. Rupt da jackal.  

Tika 91

Bull terriers on chains, gladiators in x.charis: alerters of crux gammata, unicode U+534D, serving former servers—you are the 20-sided polygon of Pee Tika. The Daughter of Arp says it’s in the edges of reeds, in a square basket-weave Pee Tika used to pr./ot.O wr.it/e the ecliptic pole. Help us. These tetradic 4s are renotes sucked through the bloody curculi. Gag me Tika with the s.wa of your magen force. Square, cross, cube—red, white, black, later distilled a pure cyan—steal shape and thickness conferred on grace and favor. Here’s our ultraman. You wouldn’t think so, but Eddy is Gathas seducing re.ocents. A triune: Gathas, Tika and The Daughter of Arp—some/on.e has to work in our family—über replaced by m.E/ta.

Intromit 7.9

Radix. Corpus. Glan. Two corpora. Meatus and balls of a baton-twirler—armored or testosteroned, groped by the lardy tubist with pucker lips. Bulb and crus vie for the ineal pouch of a new era: The Age of Posteros. His hirsute torso is post-gender and polis-soiled. Post the post-phobic theory to retire the form with a thrust. E.vent/s are pathological. No frenum here, the gland submits to the prepuce. Wear a chinstrap for Eddy’s digital juvenilia bomb—a photo bomb, a duct: hum. He, his bicuspids, renege on the death of pleasure. I spin make. I am a fan/act.ic, worshipping the E.fertil. Choice is dead. Post Me! Dead Me yourself. Monitor me because I tra.Vars your stir an U.r of Queef. Hell me game-changer. E.Raphe me you isible stud. Beat.

Extinct 3079

Extinct in the schema of status, sub-reliant as a s/u.c of c/ess, gummed by tinct, Eddy’s data is de/fic.ie.nt. How leasty is the cern? Quite robust, thanks to a.s/k groping for the crit/s. Is E.d.d/y a Carolina Parakeet, neotropical in size and coloration to extant jendays and sun conures? His plumage is green with lighter green underparts and bright yellow headed dorange forehead. This high risk of en.da won’t now vintage hemorrhage its authentic confession. Our E./s.>i<S has been liberated. Don’t “shoot shovel or shut up.” Over-hunt the game of limit to reanimate invasives. No crease. No resistance. Conserves balk at captives. Dholes are canid natives. This one’s about parakeets and dhoels. This one’s about a gene pool of lovelies.