I examine my skin searching for the pore with EXIT

I don’t dare speak too loudly, some timbres could be fatal— that string is not too strong I think: and at times I have to breathe. Or maybe I fear

At your light side trees shy A kneeling enters them

Our love has chosen its appropriat… Which when viewed in the midst of… It didn’t choose seems almost insi… The gesture our love has chosen is… We both agree not that we have any…

Like all children, you were a de f… Member of the Flat Earth Society… Believing nothing but what you cou… Or touch or whatever sense led act… Fruition: mudpies made summer bene…

As much as someone could plow in o… They called an acre; As much as a person could die in o… A lifetime—

‘My age, my beast!’ - Osip Mandel… On the lips a taste of tolling we… The light drifts like dust over fa… We wear masks on our genitals You’ve heard of lighting cigarette…

I lay down in the empty street and… My feet against the gutter’s curb… The building above a bunch of gawk… Along its ledges urged me don’t, d…

I’m tired of murdering children. Once, long ago today, they wanted… now I feel Vietnam the place where rigor mortis is beginning to… I force silence down the throats o…

After your death, Naomi, your hair will escape to be… a round animal, nameless.

I am a modest house, a house solel… notable for the fact I lived here… Its brass plaque depicts an oxygen… in which two pupils of hydrogen da… Downstairs is where I lit fires w…

Note: For 'or’ to free itself from ‘word,’ it must strain ('heave’) against the 'w’ and the 'd’ that enclose it. If, via this strenuous (perhaps squeamish) process, the meaning of 'or’...

The taller the monument, the more… Look, look, a graveyard has fancy… Historians agree: this is the pebb… Every billboard is theoretically a… Mouth: the word’s exit-wound.

“...here thy generations endeth in… I physically resemble my mother And father and therefore must have… Adopted, because on my TV screen The role-children rarely share a f…

The bouquet Bluebeard gave his first date reblooms Railroad trains drop off the bourgeois’ pointy head God’s hand descends into a glove held steady by the police At their reunion The Ne...