May 8

            the sum relating to its moon

            never not suffering from doubt

            even cutting flowers

            picking them up again from the earth’s hand abateless terror

            picking them up again

            stalks talk

            of no synchrony

            sky dropping songs to letter earth

            the cat hurts small things as I do larger ones though I do so with greater mediation

            causality being a demiliquid with action-waves rippling through

            this metaphor isn’t real

            though such pain’s infliction is

            where’s my thoughtless glade

            the sun in a bad way

            dear mediation you make me sick













            how does control

            does it lash its words to themselves giving orders that go stop your own talking

            solar derelict

            if you knew me then in windows

            was the light borrowed was the frame contested was the crowd that rose up from its grave the one
                           pledging to never let the sun die alone

            without knowing letting go

            till each room shed its own memories

            guesses pouring out

            our laughter folding


            ~~~

May 24

            this time the cat’s inside

            not so the rose of exterior danger

            I hear a siren strike

            terror producing anew in me a relation to time

            and it isn’t music /            I

            ’m the one who’s here the one who’s fearful I was wrong to cut the world in half

            make it hold again

            did you see it

            paranoia in the sky paranoia in the sky did you see it did you see it paranoia in the sky did you see it

            half-star of mine

            scattered across earth like speech blown open and lost

            scarce music

            has time happened yet if it’s going to

            its song goes abrading

            till inheritance is rain

            till the storm is really faceless

            two miles earlier two tornadoes orbit each other at the only possible distance that frees them from
                           causal force

            the cat upbraids limit

            she’s addicted to space and danger

            like I am to paranoia and this time do you see it

            really here in an inflorescent room of black tile where I’m hiding from what the siren says isn’t
                           over going on

            [ ]

            the tiles not answering me not breathing just hoarding light which is the time of the siren’s end I
                           wait for

            [ ]

            I wait as the lines go out

            [ ]

            [ ] [ ]

            [ ] [ ] [ ]

            once a moment passes

            it leaves a residue that’s texture

            this one shears the skin

            this one shares its face with the siren looking outside answer me do you see it

            for yes I’ll go abrading

            for no I’ll self-redact

            into an envy of the world

            that sings of the world

            ’s music and knows it’s sourceless

            the cat wants to be outside

            I open a door it runs past and this renatures the line from me to planetary danger

            never mind the siren’s edge

            every siren every rose every siren every rose every siren every rose every siren

            [ ]

            [ ] [ ]

            [ ] [ ] [ ]

                                                                                                                                                   [siren’s lost]


            though its I continues

            albeit as silence

            my funnel cloud alive

            as its own redaction

            light’s tiled wave a reminder

            of the sun smiling then taken down

            life’s tiled wave the remainder / terror

            of what’s sourceless and cannot be barred from the world because an object which to bar is what
                           the sourceless lacks

            so song amplifies itself

            refines eternity into finite lands

            as the storm blows past its ending

            to the sirens I’m shaking still

            ordering ambient terror

            into an envy the cat defies

            goodbye siren goodbye rose

            I will try to be again sometime

            a limit that I approach and am pulled to pieces

            first scatter

            then remain


            ~~~

May 30

            when inside a thing you can’t see it ending

            you can’t see the outside looking in

            what’s next to next

            I’m out here buying time to use later

            chalice skipped at the register so the display moans VOID

            my apex stones in equivalent hands

            moon willful

            charting time and crying over what happened because I’m worried I’ve grown so plastic with
                           tenderness

            at least with my best guesses

            I keep them in the box the box is next to

            not enough edges to open

            nor sounds to let music be

            oh by music I mean [ ]

            unopenable box that’s behind a face

            or was it inside

            I turn to look

                                                                                                                                           ] [



            ~~~















.