OF TENDENCIES,
OPEN THE CREASES OF GRIEF
the mind cannot access the sprigs and spheres i’ve repelled
over the years. complaints from the drunken pianist
fracture the toast over dead baby fauns. the gnawed
torso of the mother seal expands—synchronizing
with the zeitgeber like rising bread. discontort
the tightwalker’s rope—let it materialize down
like a river that cannot seem to find its ocean.
it is possible to crystalize human flaws; simply
extract three bones, each from different arenas:
the fibula, the phalanges, and the zygomatic.
deposit them at your local rest stop. to study
the self is to practice forgetting others.
OF TENDENCIES,
SKETCHES DURING RUSH HOUR ON THE CHICAGO LOOP
each tomato heart beat softer
than the sole of ballet slippers
the way we keep track of things
throughout the day as if the act
of measurement made us a promise
to measure something is to change it
each tick of the body, bubbles
in saliva, spasms of streetlights,
the way you use a lint-roller, vertical
rotations, spiderworts and slot-machines,
edible hissing coins, such sour aftertaste
to refill the vacuum is to excavate the void
to refill the vacuum is to excavate the void
each chord of cheap tequila, jaunts
the momentary nature of nearness
the way i think about counting distracts me
from counting how many times i’ve washed my clavicles,
now i must reapply soap, rewash, recount
to do nothing is an action
to do nothing is an action
to do nothing is an action