SWATTING
OF THE SONGS
tears
unite
&
we nod.
Slocum
nods
too.
the
jury
shows respect for
the
community kitchen,
the
green grab bag
full
of
electricity.
Slocum’s
breastbone
she
does not
hold,
still will not
after
the
jeep
is
sold. we ring
around
the kingdom
&
choke
the
garden
harshly
housed.
we listen for
the
bathwater
to stop, for the
fountain
to rise this
time.
she
crunches
numbers
&
Slocum
maintains
power
—whatever
causes it—a
swollen
given.
the police
kill
& pass the time, look
at
it like a corrupted wish.
three
schools
burn
& two
houses
too, toolboxes &
phantom
fireworks flaring
inside
of garages,
frozen
food
fizzling
inside of
the
community kitchen.
Slocum’s
backbone looks
bigger
than ever—never
been
clearer, in fact. hey,
well,
what
do you know,
what
an amusement park
is
this humble hellhole.
UNTITLED
archival
bluetooth on facebook repeat
et
al be at my
house
the whitest of all
UNTITLED
Fills
the room with daytime worries
Fills
the room with sudden hallways
Fills
the room with electrical charges
Fills
the room with dead emblems
Fills
the room with vivid infants
Fills
the room with wavy universes
Fills
the room with virgin ages
Fills
the room with purple silences
Fills
the room with concealed substances
Fills
the room with leaden pencils
Fills
the room with beautiful intentions
Fills
the room with parental creases
Fills
the room with arctic glasses
Fills
the room with fucking surfaces
Fills
the room with incredible melodies
Fills
the room with handwritten doors
Fills
the room with farewell laughs
Fills
the room with sweaty peckers
Fills
the room with mysterious weapons
Fills
the room with quiet roads
Fills
the room with ancient crimes
Fills
the room with nervous mothers
Fills
the room with twisted statements
Fills
the room with bloodless fingers
Fills
the room with naked postures
Fills
the room with talking buttons
Fills
the room with lost toenails
Fills
the room with absent nightmares
Fills
the room with symmetrical sleeves
Fills
the room with organic adventures
Fills
the room with sleepy movements
JULYTIME
DRESSED IN ITS SUNDAY BEST
any
labor-intensive sketch
oaf
larger than sports club philosophy
CD-ROM
channel going fishing ding
hides
misery above nomadic gantries
any
icy map-reading pixie
trailers
& gantries beyond the blue sun
light
hours moving everyday life along
an
office party murder mystery rat race
any
acidic or basic sunset
the
squalling risibility of Pepsi Cola
fresh
refreshing just before rebellion
an
owlish hoot a flowery downpour
any
rosy petal or daybeam
whisking
away nearby office shrine
shrine
animals wandering all giddy
headstones
lifted & foothills awash
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