when the moon subsides and arrive five figures—
an alchemist, a janitor from the future, a self-made gamer. a pleasure model and a love terrorist, visible to the naked eye severed from other
people can see everything in a circle.
(yet I was shrinking from several angles, obscured on many occasions.)
settled on an edge such bodies looked human or luminous anomalies, dressed
in a black medley of sound and whatever one
wishes. do you want wine or gin. tell your friends to come again.
when we start noticing the disappearance of objects. a strong soap, bubbles extracted
when stirring in the curing agent. a meat slicer for cutting. mobility
reduced, prosthetics such as hip joints or valves. without producing
volume (raising voices) would we even exist. this has nothing to do
with the Moon’s face belying a particular likeness
as every face demands
of someone she used to worry over. to carry a certain resemblance to, a degree
of vagueness or synthesis of various
faces. to what extent recollection is faithful after a time inscribed in a surface as a slab meant to convey
weight. (where did you go if only I didn’t
know) but at that crossing always something to stop her from receiving
an appropriate body, what a woman would try settling
for months, years, it's heartbreaking. a score, an affair,
it’s all the same she just wanted to declare
bankruptcy. couldn't covens be custodians of metal and blood. she wanted
control of organic things. (my dress is a fabric wrapped at the waist. as soon
as you let go, I unravel.)
in the language of the epicenter an undulation
an underground explosion as waves move
through a body, a person changes in the corner of a room. damage
across a variety of systems detected. from cracks seep
toxins, heat. (I held you for a time and you started to whimper.)
we arrive at different points
the ground falls away. (as soon as you let me go, I close.) calculate
the distance, deliver with a RAPPING that a mother is MATERIALIZing.
anything to preserve a child. (are you my baby.)
this winds up sounding holy, these winds are sounding
alarm: as a needle follows a groove on a revolving plate
disrupted. she alerted others but they preferred pooling to a certain
part about which parts are generally
situated. the comfort of crowds. yet nothing fits. she’s tried assembling
hundreds of interlocking pieces. where once were hands.
(are you my.) isn’t anyone compatible. suitable or soft, a tender core absorbing
waves, a frantic friend in a sort of cage found in names called outside houses wailing.
within transmission of characters allegedly enabled
embedded verse; reversing the side of a tape an attempt
to enter the subconscious. (intention carefully
disguised, what I’d convince you, if I tried.)
a TRUMPET blast carries most of a standing wave inside a column of air occupying
only a fraction of the volume. its predecessors did not have
a valve though the effectiveness of the instrument was questioned only once.