DEXTER
lay aside yr.
tinfoil
gratitude,
yr. trio of
words that
can be said,
all you desire
is so clearly
de
:;:
served
INEXTRICABLE
door eaters, we
mumble splintered
curses, prayers,
haunted by years
yet to enter.
BLÓÐ
drink yr
god damned
fill.
stretch yr desicated
finger towards
each one you
wish cursed.
carve the lead,
bury the tablet
beside the heart-shaped
mound or yr septic tank.
you are a true
one of us.
AKEN
unhanded,
or,
wishing it
to be
so.
HOARSE
hallelujah
:;:
name
fuck,
hurtle,
a
circle,
go
back,
unspeak—
THE LEVER
begs to pry
open
the cage of the
crate,
yet—
hesi—
tates.
LOWERING
let the sun plod,
each day we take
our handful of
earth to swallow,
grit-throated, as
the topography
demands.
JACK PINE
sink and wait,
wait—
you're not fly—
ing, you are
the needle brown—
ing drought.
COCKATRICE
cobble gazed
stare orbs,
roam, full,
gut my
weasel skin.
BODY IS TRUE
we are that
demiurgic cabal
left alone,
together
under the heavy
expanse of the
empty, eyewateringly
blue sky, jostling
each other aside
to claim our turn to
press our fingers
into the cold, dead
clay, willing it
to be anything,
anything but
meaningless and
inert.
FORMER COUNTRY
the moon leers,
'I am no
singer'
fuck you-
r gutter
throat.
Be done.
Be gone.
naɪf
I am my
own
blade, dulled
to a dangerous
point.