many addicts glisten, spiritual allergies, muffins with cream
cheese. I’m gnawing sea-grass, communing
with bison, fiddling a dream by absence: kleptic devices, a happy scar, aguish
needling essence; by caiman genetics, or dinosaur consciousness, at raptures
staring at God: a friend to brains, our last ingestion, our alcoholic
inflections … essence is speaking, genetics are soaring, at music, disappearing
into magic: Venus shakes, the last sip, souls fretting Jim Jones. catlike
neurons, those dingo gaps, wolves raiding livestock—
that fair aesthetic, those feminists’
doves, the man disrupted by tenacity—as flowing into butterflies, or descending
into bloodstreams, caves glistening at red petals.
the lungs are bleeding, women are
excavating, at souls dearly consequential. the love for essence, the code
distorted, minds hampered by motion. the cut is deep, the soul so passive, distant
a tear, pleading insistence: at caiman instincts, at shoebill matrimony, ashamed
for fleeing: furious livers, this man sipping, those aches to Newport, plagued
by menthol. the addict watching, feeling
her son, to flip with frenzy, wrestling with dolphins. as Prince of
wars, Machiavellian principles, at a Monroe goddess—to ache his brains, to
destroy his instincts, at terrors, loving her debate.
