1.
The other one secretly
matched her clothes and face to walls
for greater invisibility.
2.
Sleep is eyes shut, picturing eyes
shut and hair winding down
around your nose, into your mouth [a little]
and maybe folding arms, haphazard
like the craning yellow bird-
necks of construction.
3.
Wax wax wax! She He.
What, BEWARE burns fish
word into leg, see the thighs of
chickens, and words about it. Cuts
w/ knife, maybe licks stamps,
And, BEWARE starves, dreams,
wrong words about it, maybe
[wax wax] and it the wax
comes like milk.
Fish word, the waxy tightness
of our hands upon the perch
and oyster. The wax secreted.
The moon waned waxy and
in all the words about it
The secrets out. BEWARE
4.
Your northern remote
becomes intolerable. Why on earth
can't you stretch out a little,
put your cool fingers
on Atlanta's sweating shoulder.
He will turn to you for a second.
You can hold your colonial gardens
just so, and he will weep with bliss.
5.
The snowfeel of early winter
and the salt of welsh gulls
and a cartoon tooth with eyes
running through the solemn landscape
laughing maniacally, tossing confetti
and secret in concern
for world enough, and time.
6.
Let me see. I give one life to mum
and to my brother: I'll be good, I promise.
I give another one to killing off
my robot lives, but she is dead. I will give,
maybe, a little more to my father; I give
everything, just now, to you.
7.
Spoons together, and the set
came with eight, a Glasgow eight,
(ohet, I forget) but bent
til two last fit, curling
gently into one another
direct adoring Glasgow complete.
8.
They were waiting to slice off
buttery linens for the summer corn,
that would hesitate and then slide
meltingly they objected to their violent
misrepresentation, you know We
are cutting wrought they
said, you know, but not
evil. They said We have not said
yet who we Are. They laid like
surgery on the snow and they
hesitated for summer for butter
for a moment, hands free
9.
Its vivid VR spring, suspicious! And the hallways
smell of homemade applesauce (I remember halfway
through theyre usually sweat
or cigarette ends) then, machines dream us,
better if we are not taken in.
A scientist, a human machine, has invented
an electronic nose, and soon
the DNA computer chips arrive. We will have spring
dreaming us when we please
our blood will be the machine
that sleeps and I will pick daisies
they grow again with every Enter strike.
10.
The turn of pleated leaves and oval flash
of waxy rhododendron crashes through
the trotted path of solid stony ash.
We'll mend the silver skies to hopeful blue.
We are here to beat the daffodil gold--
the sun dismembers monochromatic shapes
against the twisting cobweb lane of old
concrete, cloud trees, and dropping willow capes.
I imagine the sea, fishery flit
in the cold, distant. I waver, catch, choke
in upon my wrestled self, fall and sit,
half-pretty, woods again, under black oak.
But I must not lose my presence. Fast glued
to this moment. This place. This person. You.
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