^

thousands of
hundreds of
bottles rattling up

the assembly line
of my spine
up to the atomic tip

where they then
fall and fall and
i never hear the pop

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Dismemberment

Terrified
Gorgonized
By the constellating
Flashbacks
All branded
In my crystal cabeza,
This soul case
So riddled with
Mnelactites and
Cracked watercolors
Of us here, and now
Us there then, too –
God it is troublesome
To forget you
Without drenching
My thoughts in fish
Oils sourced from
Underneath the earth,
Taken from Leviathan
Lying open
In wait.
I collect myselves
And shake out of
My pillar of salt:
Motherfucker I
Will look back
When I want to

Steady Creeks

I could get used to anything, and

If weeks of tedium lie in store,

I don’t mind: as long as there’s a

Schedule; and inevitably I could dodge

Surprise, arrhythmia no longer psychologically

Jostling. I’m optimistic this disappointment

Will fade just as soon as I get situated –

Gimme a second and I’ll sit down with

You to enjoy them: all the sighs we

Settled for. And the broken doors stuck

Shut with disuse. At least they’re pretty

Doors with smart brass numbers. At

Least this new neighborhood’s

Predictable as a pop song. At least

There are some activities in store

If you go check the whiteboard