Landscapes Without Fruit
vying for what hunger in tooth
is delivered through a spoon
is a dallied-up nothing of orphan-starve
a barren orchard bares its knots
is callous prone & of the gout
a moat—no water
a moan of secret shelters
& this house of babies swaddled
with their own emaciated cores
[oh sleep
you are far too benevolent]
Texture
knows not its proportions
—— is unbounded
awakened
is paper slicked with gadfly spit
is sprawl of plump esophagi
so's the ligament diagram
so's the bone protrusion
& archaeopteryx specimen
so's the dung beetle imprints
of motion along sand
the tiny hairs along her backside
to mark the moment of ripples
Mute If
gather up your wounds & gutters
& meet my eyes in a fix
there are pink discoveries & unopened doors
go if must— if musk disperses its scent
in all the right places
—— hibiscus buds
the blush drawn back into my chest
stillness if such a move should suspend itself
in the swell of hot nights
your belly
is the earth is crowing in its skin-mesh
& go must
search through this skin-sac
for shrunken remnants of breath
Tether
it is all fleshes of sinew
& not flying into this verse
where guts tease the night
terse it is—— swirl of flies
I long the strain to set me free you see
before the intensity of seeing your form
leaves mine blindly
but not before coiling [ I think
this mouth begs to wander away
from the face] pith of
pressure points
an "ah" with it
