the great heal rift is explosive
a shape emerges
you can fit other shapes into
by a soft cartilaginous hand
still supple as a sharks
a short fusion
a headache seeks only growth
to bud and to scrape
empty space to empty space
blood and skin hanging, nerves retracted
before I become somebody
I bleat nobody
maybe you are someday
somewhere, somehow, sometime
maybe I come a someswarm or a somekind
a some I some
underneath a calm swarm
fluid is leaving itself into densities packed
with moment or stars
a baby is barely coagulated
but it is already full of data
my blastocellobabe loves nothing
it is already full of clockwork
a bacterial memory of Egypt
an even smaller memory of you
it is hard to get to sleep
you have to get all the ambiance to synchronize
and then place a sword in my hand
bees in the body part that is project
and thickened amber
in the chasms we protect
I will not obscure anything
but it is my nature
I obscure my nature
but you can see it
you can see it
underneath the bottom is another
to liquified editors
will you edit my fragmentation?
I keep my promise
if it breaks then I break
promise is incubation
the origin of all perfect shape
if I am filled with guilt
you must see the truth
purity is a walking turtle
a conga line of turtles
streaming from fault lines
I am learning to believe
my compacted self kneels
before our love
the enormous nativity
you give me the knife
to kill fear
if it is hiding in my sclerotic nerve
I will kill her
a knife is born with no handler
I want to live
up to the green reality
of our mutual electronic
to see my nature
I need the lance
You were born under a troop of fixed stars.
This makes you prone to emotional crises,
as the nature of life is flow and change.
You were born to go against your nature.
You chose these lessons.
But the challenge is choosing to learn.
No, not like that. Learn, like burned part of your skin learns
through debridement. Learn, like the forest animal
encountering asphalt and iron bars,
and then under the shunted sheets of ancient moonlight
rewriting it from the outside in. The little colonies
consisting of sounds and frequencies solidifying
into nucleotides awaken to themselves
as they are filled with memory,
and the human enters the god,
and the god desires to be held in its true esteem.
An inch of records. Seven inches of records.
These are little playthings to the will.
In your deer darkness you are holding on
to the paradox of yourself.
THE ORIGIN OF THE WORLD
Blood has an unrelenting optimism.
The light must come from somewhere inside,
Inside the howl which the wound has exposed.
The light runs out. Maybe it is pulled out of you
in a sound. As it is pulled out, the dust surrounding
you is illuminated. From the total darkness that secretes
bile and oil and gases, from the total darkness of tiny pixels
and demons, hair is pulled out, hair that shines in the night.
Hardness gives us the cracks through which we love
because it must shatter.
An alien lay in the waterproof mattress
and saw my face, our tears mingled,
her dead husband watched
quietly drinking in
the roots that dug invisibly in the other
dimension are splitting the scabby ceiling tiles
as fine white dust pours down.