Wednesday, December 15, 2010


choice or napkin cloudy fan
whistling in the corner where
my lungage strains oh foghorn
ladder up my waist a dusty
clue or what got never left is
that the crawler is this the tomb


dog gristle sharply clotted in your
bathtub where a TV swims a
squirrel screaming at the window
shade I choked and book I
chewed your thingless finger na
ttering in the sawdust around my door


hopping salad thorns or isolation
hammers at the window where my
caking arms wobble in deflection
still I quavered in my smile
or gold and chalchíhuitl the
green heaving tossing in my bowl

The Wets

collapse or reclogstruction faced
my streaming house of crowds chor
izo strolling on the floors I
kept my seconds in your back
and fragrant arms so kempt my
moon inhaled my closet swimming


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