#Americans
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…
From the trees the leaves came dow… until we joined hands with a wand and that act enabled them somehow then to reach the ground where they scuttered round our fee…
Speak like a singularity, a lack residing deep inside every lock, j… past the point keys can jab: again… make safe-ensure your door’s core… for reckless access to that pure c…
After your death, Naomi, your hair will escape to be… a round animal, nameless.
Meadow of matchsticks, soon to be rekindled by Spring the incendiary. The exact flame of your blossoms will ignite the passions
Who whispers here is forgotten. Saliva’s emptiest fruit adorns the stones, words ripening your mouth to a spoilation
Tying the pimp in dreams to a lamp… His tuxedo wet with wheedled kisse… I wake up sucking the footprints o… In jails that glitter like crash-d… A dog appears in call letters on m…
The clock is dressed in drag, I m… space instead of its own proper as… but if it wore time, would… isn’t visibility an effect of transvestism, that shield pasti…
The way the world is not Astonished at you It doesn’t blink a leaf When we step from the house Leads me to think
Here at the height of the day nigh… The color of the sky is uncertain, The sky depending in which directi… One’s eye strains, each of its swa… Hue which dies too soon and which…
Like everyone I demand to be Defended unto the death of All who defend me, all the World’s people I command to Roundabout me shield me, to
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…
at the edge of the city in the garbagedump where the trucks never stop unloading a crazy congregation stumbles from trashmound to trashheap
–to S. The light lay in shreds across the… only your waking could make it who… resuming its costume of day, its r… which seems to overnight get ragge…
(Nonasyllabics) In retrospect the tragic nature of sea is a taste wept too daily, too depleted by freedom’s rupture; the eyes have other secrets to see
