Bulk Egg

It was a time of great productivity

The bud plumped into flower

Ink reached and settled, but not mine

Squat in a swollen garage

I impeached the weather

My brow twitched.

Was light twirling for crystal?

To be sold?

If sticky then switch then catch

Against the rough swipe

I was sliding then

I was mixed with milk and temper

Fatigue Template

In the itch all I wanted

To check my money

Cloud money and gasp

Money I didn't care

To repeat the poem

I scared easily the napping

Mood

Life smells like a toxic pie and I love it

Do I love the coloring whisker? I do

June

I lived in a closet that chimed me

I stood in the bathroom under

water and sat

The high grass cranked on

The fly ate the root

I wore many pictures of women

and wrote a tall chorus to night

The car on empty and sweat pools

A woman in white tests me for death

Like a bird, like a wire unfloored

The Playground

I'm ready for nothing to stop happening

The rain hits the green and I name it The Playground

Call nylon a rule, call the fettering rusts

When he vibrates my thigh I quit an ancient feeling

Quit garbage, cave open: to books no one toasts

     To nothing, to water

When am new am not new: not burned, so not no

     Of letters, my ankles

     “I do both, who am I”

Salted

I don't want to be no one in the sun

The lime beat flames into my mouth

On my knees again reaping

An amber bottle

I strongly want and flame

That hardened stolen rock

Little situation of must:

     I'm always alone

     Licking from the broken crab 

Hour of thighs

Ice cream hour

Nothing real until I spit

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