I'm watching your arms like daylight
tenth of teeth, so what
are you telling me, list all
times you speak, you speak
to me rarely.
What's that? Ten little indians:
I'm scared of you. Can't tell me
myth is drain basket, wasn't eaten
and wasn't washed away,
has a lot, or a lighthouse would be nice
with water, excepting I need you, the
other except we've teased each other
for years and I'm bleeding in the nose
which I haven't ever done.
This feels good. Something really dry. Hey you.
Heavy chicken broth, cultlike watercolors
in perpetual renovation, birds about
suspicion, birds about you, roof
is closed in rain you are listing
plastic bag as sculpture, ridges
exhaling in the larger plastic trash bag
slightly more important. Can
you hear the mouse scraping through
the floor a blur I think it's morning
now it is can't tell me we
rule the lakes and graves where
tigers copulate doesn't leave me with a
lead, lost. Couldn'tve helped much.
What are you? Fake plastic? Unguent?
Love to talk, talk to love so cheaply
blurry in intentionality, 'cept it's
better, and maybe we'll lay that lake
pretty easy, they say.
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