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September 30, 2015 / barton smock

(crossed)

[stage presence]

on the life of his mother

loneliness
was the spell
he could not
recall

[the entertainment]

from ear to god-bitten ear
you
are poison.

in my youth
I was quiet.

there, I said it.

the food is not a dream
but here it comes.

[god muscle]

when dressing the disabled child in front of family

my language
is often
the one
I use

[themes for shadow]

when toothpick young you see a snake go mad with second nature and a sponge dragging your mother through nothing’s data

[gauze]

the boy’s mother is biting off less than he can chew. her insomnia

has put her inside a worm
her body
tries
to fill. her milky eyed

husband
revs a tow truck
to death

in a heavy fog. it is possible, humanly

possible

there’s nothing
to see here. that her god

is, in a sense,
seizure activity
in the boy’s

spirit

animal.

[divide]

tired of mom touching its food, the baby comes early. we call this moment the buzzard’s injured adoration of a surplus crow.

last supper, I see only men.

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