birthplace 60 A nonsmoker holds their breath for the entire runtime of your silent film about a person with invisible genitalia. God is looking at god’s grown-back thumb. There is a dream the arsonist has where she doesn’t stop watching the caterpillar. Anyway, I want to die at home. The hour isn’t long, but there are bodies.
birthplace 59 We've said sober that the present is the ghost of now. That god is only dead because god has died before. I've seen a frog look like a wasp. And a wasp look crucified. Shoot anything that moves sorrow. Slingshot, sex change, school bus. You can't be abused if you're from the future. Touch ends the past.
birthplace 58 Mournography 101: Bird place fifty seven
GAP SONGS when homesick I seashell my son’s weight in softspots ~ IN THE BALLOONING EMPTINESS OF KNOWING THAT MOUTHS ARE SHAPES THAT DIED an animal not sold on god angels near its dinner of mock and make and make ~ HOW TO LIVE IN LAST OHIO Keep getting the same sore throat. Hit puberty in a cornfield while listening for dogs. Give for free your father’s tadpole to a thief in a shrinking city. Take no joy. ~ APARTURES God is at every funeral disguised as god the ghost death couldn’t keep ~ APARTURES Two birds with one deer. Touch is touch teaching touch the backstroke. The nude think snow can die. ~ THE DIAGNOSIS We walk to the car. Sometimes the car is different. If I look closely, I can see that I’ve put my son under my shirt. A video of a mother’s finger getting shut in a car door gives me a toothache. Searching lessens the find. There aren’t many pictures of us with our mouths open. There are things we can to do make it look like we don’t go outside. Choice is a medicine. You can eat or you can write, but you can’t do either. Clearly, thunderstorm, jesus had such a short memory that god became necessary. All babies in my dream, dream. ~ APARTURES Time gives itself a childhood. Alien, animal, beast, breast. God loves a beginning. Painkilllers don’t age. ~ UNTITLED no matter that ghostpack of cigarettes under baby brother’s pillow- He breaks his hand in a poem
birthplace 56 Touch is the brain’s last angel. Ohio erotica allows me to say things over and over. There’s only a name for this. The glacier my teeth are in. Shoebox from the listener’s dream.
birthplace 55 Mouse has gone to that bird place. Cry with me. Wasp, gasp. My son’s injuries keep him alive. In grade school, I wouldn’t use the restroom for fear I’d be seen wanting my hand to be seen. Touch is touch with nowhere to pray.
birthplace 54 Wrist, owl, rested vowel.
birthplace 53 describe not god but the photo-healed image that burned the book of your mother's hands
birthplace 52 God can't see all of us. Kill the animal yourself. The animal will be fine. Death doesn't eat. It's not dark inside or out. I tried to write a haiku. I tried to be a drunk. Beauty is other people. Sex education is a short film that Ohio uses to advertise reincarnation. God can't see all of us.
I drop my mother’s cup of fake blood as my father tries to find the movie scene that will give him his age. My thumb breaks in a past death. The mumbling of its break speaks a moral thing to the smallest body ever to be vividly isolated. I am hearing all of this through an eggshell that mom says belongs to the angel best known for keeping quiet about skin. Under my brother’s shirt there crawls a wasp that smells like god. None of the blood can be saved.
kingsoftrain 