BREAK UP POEM FOR DEFEATISTS AND UGLY FLOWERS
These are publications by the united states of nothing like us,
of a you borrowed to withstand atrocity and a flat-bedded lake of steam.
In the choking wake of little else mattering, behold the paradigms shifting:
we fodder the get-go of time, the lucidity of another erudite space.
Shape first your escape, second your own face for its breaking.
Blossom an arm, a lung, a waistbone, a spine.
Next, tip forward the alliance and you’ll see it a sham;
lay forward the alliance and you’ll witness its beginning: grace,
or just a residual mistake, a covered lump strolling the back of the fridge.
How later we thickly ambled for enlightenment: the story.
In another room, a moon lay atop another, said fuck me
but no moon considers the layout of its land, the parchment of its defiance.
In our ambling toward God, we embraced the seismic allowance of daybreaks:
movement toward inclusive artillery shaped like an exclusive cup’s worth of face.
In the time of us we shook loose the pundits, sucked loose their phlegm.
At night we held hands, or rather, I held yours while you puked out the resins, anchors,
five states away into leavened waves,
back arched, face forward, eyes on the horizon where we did not meet.
BRIEF INTERNET OUTRAGE
Or reasons why we claim solidarity, lament rage, outscore and outsource inaction
This ungodly mistake fits ripe in my hot palm and I’m dancing
Or the phantom ghost of our repentance that resides for spectacle
My palm faces up at your dystopian buzz cut says blame
Or that some deep men consider the largeness of our simple white spermaceti feats
Your buzz cut says fuck me your buzz cut says bright lights big city small factors
Or the limits of what we can do matter less than the trip tarp decline of Uzis and snow flakes
The bright big city oozes says blue balls says bloat bitch
Or the decentering of prized pales and prized proms and pretty girls contains you gut borne
Your blue balls say hey girl hey
Or the deveining of your stump jokes on Broadway, the broad way they curl up onto my hip
Your blue balls come swine come seraphic
Or the far flung serenity of Gods who blow up lock jawed estates in the byzantine
I say it’s midnight my heart burns and this outrage says bust
Or the far flung serenity of Gods who blow up lock jawed estates in the rapture
I sway to your waiver I sway to your swagger song made of birds cut from paper
Or the far flung serenity of Gods who blow up
The reasons why we claim solidarity are your faces tipped forward like kettles drunk rain
ELECTORA (3)
The perfection of language is harmony is blank
I walk the plank not outside your fit door
Its lank and deceit becomes my glitter migraine
I wander the plains of a majestic market stock bond or legit pasture of bureaucracy
I aspire to be golden light in your broken face a loose pen in your pocket
I wish I could hug you from inside this rejected canteen
The biography of an it girl includes brain matter and a photo of a dented pea can
The biography of an it girl is me in bad lighting
The biography of my ankle is a cease and desist order
This pain we carry isn’t a mixture of white music and trap land
It isn’t a mixture of lost bones and the sour lipsticks of our illegitimate health
The pain is just body leaving face just blue leaving black just another empty bag
We’re full of calories and soft political jokes bagged and ordered like a slump of limes
If the chicken were force fed what would be it’s lucky charmeuse a chair gone wrong
I’ll meet you at the feather riot a sex dream couldn’t imagine
At dusk we walk toward our own de facto faces like friction, we bruise
Pick the softest strawberry from the box eat for the lump cause, eat for disclaim
Have a dream