PLUME
Half
plumage, half plate mail. Hate mail
for the Parthenon. Pantheons
of torsos
broken in old
familiar
places.
STIMULUS // SOMA
When we remove the bandages,
each week ends w/ me
speaking too
loosely. I would prefer
not to stop counting threads.
I am not particular
about which few fingers
I’m to lose
in the shredder.
STIMULUS // SERIAL
On the other side of plexiglass,
the landlord angry
about bandwidth expended
consuming
true crime.
We were keen, we were
keen, our Oculus unswabbed
between dinner guests. Our nametags
were lost to the laundromat
dryer. Their tips were envenomed
& invisible.
TRACKS [ WE ARE ALL GHOSTS ]
The graph is a zag : intakes, burn, deficits
requisite for progress
until plateau.
What ghosts could truly be but beings
from outside
our moment
in time, which moves along
like a logic problem w/ only one trolley
track but sometimes folds or
fractures. Tinted glass as mirror in which
you can't quite see
the faceless man yet to be
redeemed. Stared at too closely, the piping
between two cushions begins
to overlap. Try to pull yourself
off of the canvas, over the gap. Tilt the angle
just enough to attempt
a version
of the longview, squinting a more measured
perspective you can't quite
decipher.