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June 11, 2019 / barton smock

{ boy-sleep, etc }

loss of the family dog

be alone. enter snowfall as a heavy breather in a white dress window-shopping for a red.

know

that in between heaven and hell, there is war. hell thinks it a nightmare, heaven thinks it hell. hell sleeps more than your sister in love. heaven counts warriors and can’t put an angel on why the numbers keep changing.

as increased chatter is good for morale, call your mother and say you are her appetite.

scoop the brains of your buddies into a helmet.

/

rare disorders in the very young

after a spell is cast by one using a pseudonym

we start
somewhere.

/

toothache

wrapped head-to-toe in toilet paper, he’d still ask for a cigarette. does this kid scream suicide to you? it’s not sexual. the name of my animal

is shape. remember the face we saw in the bruise?

/

coda

thunderstorms
reported missing
by some
verbose
orphan

/

his fastball

he wants to know what he collects. he prays. he is blindfolded by the parent he rarely sees. he is taken on foot to an empty showroom only he can imagine. he is hugged. not asked, he goes into detail about his outfit. parent flips through a notebook. parent leaves to find a pencil. outside in a miniature snowstorm another parent throws an egg through the tail end of melancholy.

/

collapse

how
on a clear day
my father
is the face
of absence.

how what I mean
cuts the finger

my mother
sips.

how porch blood
is not the same blood
the body
faints with.

how copperhead, how rattlesnake, how lisp

says I myth
my sister
who is still

vanishing
to shoplift
god

from the thunderstorm
we gave her.

/

bring roach

how long might satellites mourn? sickness took the lord. a scarecrow the pulse of a cricket.

not every image was worth the effort.

/

agonal

the wolf in stork’s nightmare
speaks dolphin

what do I miss

my blood
your collection
of pea-sized

pillows

/

in no language

does echo
have a word
for dream

/

showings

seashell as failure. bread my raincloud.

touching my face in a clueless dream

on sorrow’s
blank
horse.

/

void notes

/ is here that our dreams of incarceration begin to overlap

/

devil notes

/ horns make zero sense to the boy tossing horseshoes at a rain puddle

/

cult notes

to find
in the moments
after
the vision
that yes
you’ve eaten
everything
in sight, that a baby

yours
or not

is asleep
in a somersault, that you worshiped

prayer and fell

for hunger’s
childhood

/

church notes

yeah madness had a motorcycle
for every
drive-thru

/

head-kisser

a runway model
in a cornfield

/ the stone a short film on snowfall

/

cigarette burns (for brothers)

the fly
has a bed
and cat
was declawed
by snow

/

minutes with my son

a harp
is the imaginary
secret
a spider
keeps
in the clockmaker’s
eighth
dream

/

poem

/ not that I have two birds
but that I ask
for the stone
back

/ nothingness
edited
for space

/

after the poem

the point
was to describe
you
to the image.

to go
in sleep
from bear
to bombed
bear.

/

evacuations

the dollhouse needs a second bathroom and those responsible for the film I’m watching have nowhere to hang the astronaut

/

flights

i.

a brother
on the roof
with his raft

and the white mouse
his baby
takes
like a bottle

ii.

the coming
of radar’s
crow, the lights

of illegible
ambulance

/

entries for listen

mirror
to window
we’re moving
away

/

entries for fixation

the name of this scar
is
they couldn’t hide
the canoe

mom says there’s an oven
at the bottom of every lake

that I was born asleep
surrounded
by toe touchers

is art
world-building
for the geeks
of grief

have you crucified

starfish

/

entries for pedestrians

the future sees itself as a man unable to be forgiven in an Ohio of pawn shops and nakedness

/

entries for children

remember, it is dark and memory is god painting with the blood of those he would create

/

entries for surrender

sorrow the mudwrestler of my drought

whose tooth fairy
does
impressions

can we erase
what silence
films

a dog
a smaller
prison

/

entries for loss

can we stop this talk of the baby cut in half and ask why this town has two graveyards. show me a dog showing an angel where to dig. the brothers have all gone underwater to raise money for hand signals and the sisters have taken from a tale of snowfall an orgasm to amnesia’s headstone. the parts of the movie you look at

vanish. it’s my fault there’s a god.

/

the boy-sleep of his hands

/ a pair of scissors in one room or a gun in two. a thumb war’s lame spider. four rootless prayers drawn on an echo. four awestruck sisters caressing with their ears the undeveloped skull of an infant. melancholy’s condoms. flowers for the arm-wrestler’s inoculated phantom.

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