inky blue bramble
blooms under and over
your S spine, sinuous, strong
D being an orchard sprouts
from the bottom.
(sir, you scribble so outside
the lines of modern architecture that you
fail to take up space the way hands do
moon crawler—i must say i like the way
your fingers hold a pen)
g circles and stretches head to feet
little gymnast. "softball" looks gelatinous
melting into itself
you never comb your hair or close your O's
J lilting in a clover patch, soft-woven
huddled timid, letters like strangers in an elevator.
e spots r and in a breath
they know they will be lovers.
unbutton: safe inside A's concrete tepee
bar drawn swift, apart from all the noise k makes
when she lashes her tail into O
(I sir, am C, fishing for something to string us together
skeleton letters slice the white hypothetical, beginning
and ending with "golf shoes" which escalates
as might an escaped balloon)
y, your youngest letter, pasted together
in popsicle strands—star tail surges
moon-crawler where triangle patches grow
funhouse mirrors smother "severed"
(asphyxiation inside beyond parentheses)
(I, sir, am W
a pretended clone that always does fall short)
here you wrote "gypsy gold"
and "crimson" pocket mouths devoured
If you imagine yourself a genius of modern architecture
please fold in fours and kindly rescript yourself:
the C curl of an eyelash
the S of a spine
blue ink blooming through—
til I slowly
reach into
your margins
(whether she sees
herself evenly she seems
serene)
she'd enter every tender end
merely meek, she'd wheeze
then flee
she's never free
when she's speechless
see?
she's tethered.
(whether we see selves
evenly
these yes creeds eke, they ebb)
when bells bleed
the never bees seethe
'lend me ever shelter. the eden trees.'
we're never free
when we're speechless
see?
we're tethered.
