for all the suns / a blunted retina as offering to hold your places in rule / sunny repeated mistakes regardless of the world / except for cells refusing to merge / stubbornly stalled in the first stage towards a commonwealth unlit / blink long and dream again suns
this is where I am born / not the near asymmetrical division of cells / allowed through the front door as “us” / but the squirming pattern of blood light through eyelids closed / the erratic numbering of perpendiculars walking over the sidewalk / the notion at sunset spiraling lines to the core of another earth / the word of word dividing larger blinding lunch hour
there’s a box on the step / icicles tear above / and, of course, the new mind with a first day’s layer of dust / worth the wait in seconds to sugar / spoonfuls just before bed / sleeping with customer service / in a water bed filled with sea / and, yes, the mind / surviving the close box cutter above
like an is like an is seems like better like seems is almost seems is is appears as is likely kinda is apparent to is let like be is hold forth
find the oldest eye to roll across the lawn, to distract canines with, to throw three stories up for a plot advance, to scan the water’s horizon peering all the previous bodies shed at the ocean’s ledge, the tide pulls others, even in this office
so goes the I, moving road construction pylons to increase traffic accident data, bleaching penguin classic book spines with SAD lamps, eating only antacids for a positive stomach perspective, painting ladybug spots grey to confuse the natural argument, pausing in the day and dropping a toe into the long, erasing current that accepts all heavy gifts and a fleshy price
crumple the news into a dense ball where the sentences become illegible / that’s what burns the best / under an imprecise structure of kindling, receipts, drafts and proposals / and when the sun, at the right angle, focuses through the eye / into a blister of heat / the scaffolding pops
light leaks through the hole at the end of the table, sitting there expecting a full meal, it’s a subtle and exhausting effort to get it to leave, never using the backdoor, always lingering in the open door, letting in mosquitoes and sand that find their way to your feet in bed, trying to pierce callouses asleep
hold tightest reins on the green horse, perhaps already galloping in the basement, spy upon moon glaring beyond the sun, punching out stars in the bleach of night, it may be a knuckle out of place or thunder from under snow or a skipping loop of horns, roaring in repeat above the development, whatever it is, it knows the count
what does do do else? / who can is as is ing to be? / where’s once was coming next and again until, perhaps another until making then / that which sum undone adding all again til again lifts / coming to here does respokening