I bring wine to the table but also my will to place the blood piano on the front lawn and play it for the vomiting passersby. Touch writes the unreadable bible on privacy. Fill a baseball with the stop sign’s blood. One death is hard to process do you think Death has a story about a particular life? In the afterlife of your gone-ness I am de-blued by shock. I write stuff like that because I can’t write more than three times with my wrist. I know you’re tired of me carving belief into the face of god but please kill the golden poet who knows we can’t eat food. Howl non-starlike into the flash of the eye-prone before. Dear addict ask image what god did only once.
I’ve put my hands on my brothers hoping they will want to equally die. In the dream it was me checking on me to see if I was faking sleep. You can change the mirror’s past with the face of god. In the dream they find ice in my stomach and shatter notions of conception concerning dying glass angels. Kill my aunt again I dare you. Eden had to be super small.
gesture 7
Loneliness spreads into regions of sleep never before undiscovered
When I say my son is dead you can't say if he is or isn't
In a field of handpicked sex follow not the glow of the sobbing fingernail
Recognize time when I see it
In the movie hidden by me watching god
In the movie hidden by me watching, god gets in the ambulance ever time
In the movie hidden by my watching
Their poor happiness
The child running after a wild tire they’re poor
Poor acne the handwriting it becomes
Angel acne a bone popping out of an echo in the ghost of my soul
The handwriting it becomes when put by the handless
On that tire gone
God of hands
gesture 6
enough
about me
these gaps
in your grief
gesture 5, in three failures
I let a kid punch me in the stomach might my brothers ride their bikes down a hill and later I let two kids pull me out of a bathroom stall might a bike upside down in my dead sister’s room stay upside down in the photo of that room held up by my living sister who claims it can doctor god
~
Death keeps time by the far amen of the face. You have to be very still in your clothes or they won’t last. God is two dead creatures looking at each other.
~
What doesn’t happen in the current dream
stays
in the next.
I roll my own wasps.
Curled in a junkyard tire, the sibling christ blesses oil spots real or no
Before you were born you listened to your own unrecorded grief
Diagnosed gods
test weapons
Today a tenderness and so on
Are you willing to leave them alone on the earth for their last twenty years?
I doubt with presence my absolute hereness.
Amensia.
I believed inquiry would mean I had a
Question.
No one likes your gesture sequence of
Poems.
We left the water
To leave the water
Guessing.
Don’t get mad at babies.
Be nice to god.
Tender soldier, there are birds
That bury teethmarks.
The ground is too soft.
Your hand will die.
In this church there is a toy phone on top of a toilet seat. I miss trapping god with nostalgia. I miss amnesia. A boy is a bell is punching into that fatherless space created by any shape born into a world of swimsuits. Oh fury, moon of hopelessness, the astronauts need nudes.
