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June 2017

May 2017

not a machine or world

a quick turn toward unguided sense for a very shy person

is the true disappearance of form yet it’s enormous fun

to recognize how a faux nothing comes with grapes & bitters


sent to your room. soon dismissed as an unnecessary whiteness

my oppressions tumble trifling as unremarkable beside yours

a squiggly line between true sadness and this here these notions


untwisted tale of something likely true

that I’s too small for the making. of any thing. I lacks the scope. I lacks the organs. the tools. ever a photograph.

takes itself away from its place. lost context collides with. what I wants. if not everything. the indefinite enough. in place of nothing.

and having. to be saying. is having. I hears it. going on. high and low. life. its loved and unloved parts. all one.


as necessary

a detachment stands for “hey” say this comes to you do you say

complicate it in service of a vague dread or unhappiness or to

the end the recording calms you down as practical steady wind

settles the day. your plan for the day has become much simpler

you will intercede for the sky who only wants its fair share

of the anthropomorphic frisson nearly the whole world gets at

once the poem has been published out from the imperfect box

or self polished by say this sudden spin toward quicker sense

then you can probably say it just like a normal person would