from Ghosts, Models, Visions
Have Yourself a Merry Little Sickness
From the great
whole ocean, how
can I recapture
the small life
of creatures?
Something like
verdure, the thick
nap of willingness,
the hoarse water.
A knife without
a hand would just
tumble harmlessly
in the sea. Are you
an American creation?
Are you comfortable
that the ground has
eventually come
to glass, are you
comfortable with
the underground
appeared before you?
I birthed babies
that were more
and more bare
until at last I
could swaddle them
in the skins of others.
I hid the fear
piss and the fear
shit and the whites
of my babies’ eyes
were the cleanest
I had ever seen.
What is your idea
of a good time?

Imprint (unborn speaker)
They Do Not Use Combustion at All, They Shoot Arrows
Though we tried
to teach them,
the importance
of temperature
remains. The
importance of
intimacy does not,
though they stoop
over their products
and coo. I mention
my condition until
no one can help
me. Then
I am meant
to exist quietly.
Most times I find
the examination
of systems to be
soulless, too
zoomed out
and oblivious.
I have been
conditioned by
anger, disapproval.
I want a clean
life the way
they say things
should be clean—
eternal and
unembarrassing.
I am addicted
to the turning
over and over,
flipping out beauty
for a game.
The torn limb
in my automaton’s
mouth is small
and brown, capped
by a small hoof,
shiny as a
dancing shoe.