Her Ex Carried A Stanley Knife (3 lines)
 



                           
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Post Stroke Poem
 
Each brave few w-w-words
a tissue dabs a l-l-lip         
                               o
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                               o
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                              o
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circle
My body says “no no no”


But


    there, up in a circle round about
                    My brain says “yes yes yes”


To what?
                    alright what to expect

  Expectation



                        Fire enhancement
]

                              undo all your automatic capitalization



      shells                  jams and butter



    why is it all the same?


                        now why did you stop?




               more than before

My mixed emotions have patience

Not together

                              Fly





                                        Little capitals


          Sharp



                         Mistake





                                   numb

PoE

E-Tree

/ / /__ []

Written in the dark internetless space of a few weeks ago. formatting is of course fucked.

you ramble into the hollow nest I’ve made on a dripping branch without punctuation dragging your tongue along light bones have you found marrow yet or is this a surface scrape a slight lifting of movable skin where the blood has slipped out forgetting for a second to be inside of to be on the other side of breathing
you we collect the yellow strips of cellophane from cigarette packs the hamburger wrappers the bits of tinsel to weave into walls knitting with hard tongues a solid home on a drying branch spending hours bandaging our foot our leg our chin our neck our belly our knee our elbow our ear to keep the blood in to keep piling the walls with mud until they’re warm enough

The plan is to put poems inbetween each chapter of The G of T as kinda the connection between chapters sorta. i'm concerned a little about shift of tone so yeah...here's an example!



landscaped



there are people i can’t imagine getting old

standing on breath puffed porch watching
snow fall winter and i thought she was perfect

small freckle on her nose (slightly oversized
she hated that part of herself the most) hair
(light brown sandy blonde cut layered like water
falling always smelled like papaya although
I still don’t know what that smells like) eyes (brown
pools of shade she’d pout like that with those and
I’d do this babbling) palms (so many tiny lines
a map to her fingers delicate bird bones) mole
on her right breast (kissed soft eagerly lingered
and her hand squeezed the back of my neck) laugh
(like stepping off a cliff and waking up relieved
although i did enjoy the feeling of falling)



“Stay” Coal. December 28 1999: 17.

poem follows (stupid blogger post limitations, the form is almost entirely lost. I will have to figure out some way around this.):

do we make each other this way

i met allusions on the subway train last night after dark, though after dark is meaningless under ground when dark has no after and no before.
pop
engine
tired from concerted escapism my efforts have gone home. their refrains aren’t the same way i’m thinking about them. but how else to say them.

• REMEMBER NOT TO ASK QUESTIONS WITH NO ANSWERS IN MIND
(can this be avoided through punctuation)

circles and policies havealwaysbeen exercises in
broken
physics of fracture
equations of evasions
ppo
eengin
can you flail more clearly? can you drown better next time? the next time you can’t take anymore, would you please just take some more?
all good questions, but the OC isn’t answering anymore fan mail.
opp
neengi
timeless dark was mentioned before. it has since found a watch, so forget it. the engineering is swiss.

• REMEMBER THAT IN RECANTING YOU SHOW YOUR ARE WEAK
(try to frown with dignity the cameras are rolling)