[WELL]

[costume]

we’re here to bloody the head of the boy who put a clown’s red nose on the girl playing jesus for stopped traffic. if I spoke your language, I would tell you.

~

[captions]

i.

underling animals
in times
of quake

ii.

slight
swellings

in brain
of maybe
one mole

bottled
now
for sea

iii.

if on
a baby
your hands
would be

so cute

but as
an adult

you glove them

iv.

world as wheelchair
the wheelchair
from which

god rose

v.

as sporadic
surges
switch on
the sink’s

disposal

pull thorns
from the rabbits
you dream

~

[the small]

I acquired you as an infant from a gentleman who needed parts for a radio he planned to invent. listening to his radio was a long way off. you sat early. you called me mother before I was ready. if I was good, you’d play a videocassette to watch it dream. I looked at stars and you were a toddler. our life was life on other planets until the gentleman returned. he said he’d seen satan in a space suit and that satan had given him signs of sexual abuse. you were not unrecognizably depressed but did start a fire in a photograph.

~

[epicene]

I had
all year
one
idea

–

the infant is forever in the infancy of immediate hearsay

–

I was online / had a nosebleed

–

I was with your mother when she safely evacuated
many

from nothing’s
installation

–

you may

in event
of god

instill in my sons

the all
clear

~

[deceptively simple abominations]

my brother apologizes for being beside himself with the worry of his split personality’s identical twin. his hospital gown is missing a hospital. he asks my children kindly if they are at all possible. he maintains that pain is the best editor and unveils the knee closest to undergoing brain surgery. my revelations pale in loneliness. my brother says it’s because they were spanked. he says visiting me has given him a case of racial motivation. he lullabies what I have identified as my wife’s newest. he wonders in his own withdrawn way if the newbie sleeps out of a fear that is homosexual in nature and virgin birth in spirit. he sings to a bag of salt and knows it. don’t be sick. father is my only copy.

~

[deceptively simple abominations]

the twinkle in your mother’s eyes alerts god. my thoughts are abused. our fathers live separately. will we live, also, alone? surely. to any inquiry, I am checking for survivors. it’s a premature periphery, but a baby just floated by in an incubator. the townspeople look like candles on the water. chase is a kind of following. the upper body of the minotaur lost everything.