fo
mo po
and
Private Marvel quite astupor vapids
at
nether speeds he wriths and gnaws
the
meltdown ifs inside his ribcage
a
well protruded larded keel
his
search flies far and lies asunder
stretching
to find the finding finder
he’s
very lost beyond beyond Mombasa
his
compass grunt hijacks but shadows
thrown
by agrestic ever ready vacuum
here
is his leap into the torn seeing
let
wildebeest mount
hothuman model
and
beg mahatma to reclone
a
mummy cow for us
The
torsion calipers (’ relief)
i
4 1 i dont know y
should
i
remember
things
i
never did forget
what
this rabid structure
of
giddy gizzards
of
collapsible brainmatter
has
to do with anything
this
tentative anatomy
of
assassination of pasts
i
fail
to herniate
even
those tsetse flies i remember
as
they’ve snuggled inside
that
1
last
castrated pierogi
i
forgot to cull
drop
all withs
and
all
association agency
all
finely wrought infancylaced hankering
all
discreet echoes of swift loneliness
i
heard’m talking too
whispering
just loud enough
so
i could be sure
remission
was out of the question
they
say life
is
a drop of dromophilia
in
a sea of cul-de-sacs
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