scriptorium
(1)
en
pointe my fiery
selves
you are
galvanic
under
black sky
where black planes
tunnel
(2)
down here I can’t
hear the people in them
think but one
of them’s
sure to be
moving
pixels on the back
of the seat
in front of them
(3)
like I’m moving
pixels in you now
eliding
your
sheets
your
screen is my keeper
I
shall not want
(4)
’Alive’ and
’I am alive’
I write with my fingernail
on the shower door
fog
in copperplate
accelerating to my
father’s
scribble
only two people
could
read it
(5)
born in a stiff breeze
oblivious to the
ineluctable vortices
I dream
of being
bathed in a bucket
in a kitchen
full of sun
on linoleum
(6)
now where I touch
anything intent
on resistance
crash test
cadavers
release perfume
moon ash
piles
trees
(7)
I can’t explain
I don’t want to enter
time
bitterest
root
bitten
(8)
my meat dress stinks
but still you
love me
(9)
hope’s avalanche
calm’s
glam
(10)
the heraclitean fire
fadeth
this
trope ship
labours
above the kraken fest