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I gently bite down on the metal lean slightly forward lay the tip of my tongue against the muzzle delicately taste the singular destructive instrument I open my eyes but see nothing I reach forward, but the gun has no grip segues directly into flesh an arm the muscles engaged but not tense I let my eyes close my right hand comes upon a face soft eyelids a rounded nose perched above small thin lips narrow cheekbones a young face my fingers touch small teeth he bites down on two fingers on my right hand playful but he draws blood the muzzle is withdrawn and the slide is drawn slowly across my cheek a shot fires off t

I breathe the water pull it deep within me           fill my lungs with liquid sediment    the sink below my face is hollow              I lift it and set it aside the snake inside me is brown and green and black          when I speak he expands he pushes the words up from beneath my tongue the water shines with a strange light     I exhale and it flows down my chin she lays heavily on her side    a discarded mannequin I pi

I love to watch your syllables feel the click of your mouth against my tense vertebrae we can no longer spell my thoughts they fall through a subdued morning haze I cannot say the dread that rifles by me its name is within my tongue it cannot be spoken without the scalpel in your hand without the blood on my teeth without your breath in my veins I stand in your footprints and I live in the riverbed I stand in your shoes and they take me home I stand behind you and your eyes never touch me you turn to gaze through my arms reach out to take my ribs hold them take them away your words are newborn snakes that flit through grass

your voice is in the paint single layer of white where I hear ‘the child bleeds’ white paint for white paint let me take off these shoes your voice is in the paint these shoes are in the paint your voice whispers ‘kisses and kisses’ let me take off this voice you painted kisses on my walls these shoes are kisses let me take off this paint this paint is cold let me take off these walls this paint is my shoes your kisses are my words your voice is in my voice my shoes are off my shoes are off my shoes are off let me take off these shoes I tremble in these walls these kisses my paint bleeds let me take off

X. I share a park bench with a man he wears a jade earring carved with the Hebraic Wheel of Fortune. I try not to look, but he sees my trying. He asks why, I answer that it means everything to me. I ask why, he doesn’t know. He says only “It is the last thing she saw.”

The first time, your salt suffused every object a hand or tongue could visit, my fingers searched the wooden walls, felt for an inscription under the rime crushed beneath grieving nails. I listened, sounds of nails in thin cans, black mountains of salt under curtain rustles, a thick rime remained on your hands, a crust of nations’ walls swept aside with a visit from your incomparable smile. Any visit, any visitor was respect, saw nails clean and welcome, brushed walls with dilation, drowned in the salt set on one table. Hands stable, still in bloody rime. Why always the letters rime simplicity itself—they curl tog

experience them in the vagaries of silence how many days will pass before we remember five, that years have begun to fall away, fracture crisp black paper curls from the fire of conviction, we watch stones slowly pale. soon belief overtakes reality— true words stretch friction thin with repetition redouble the speed of prejudice, paint sinks over the inscription. love: a young thrush resting in a splintered callous palm, tears reside within bluebells and coals at dusk, pressed firmly to the heel as ward against the sighted thunder. though scaffolds parch the pallid marble blocks sins remain, our skins carved ashwood cast

I wade in these rays soak my broken feet in golden warmth as your radiance dissolves the smothering mist the whirlpool in which we drowned together. Is/isn’t/is/isn’t swirl in my eyes, meet your gaze that pools on the ground, scoop me into your hands is/isn’t/is/isn’t words you twirl into these strands of glowing hair words swim in my mouth along the tip of your tongue bubble up between my rested feet, up and over, tenderly embrace my skin hold me tightly, safe to gaze as the stars glimmer within your smiling eyes it is.

To this day    I'm unsure whether you understood me    too little or too much    ?

What if we've been lied to? And fog is not water vapor Rising from the ground or laying low, Condensed, and filtering through town? What if they're clouds Born in the firmament, but now Long-worn, collapsing? Making a religious pilgrimage Like native spirits, Like grey elephants? London, San Francisco Bay Area, Seattle: Burial grounds, all.

Hands up!  if you're hopeful Hands higher! if you're not Let's play Follow the Leader. Now, we're running-on-the-spot. You all stopped - but joke's on you! Simon didn't tell you to. A cargo net is sprawled. This is today's new show. The mixture of fear and giggles! This will teach us what we need to know. Bravely, we let go.  One-by-one, we fall. Unfortunately, the net doesn't catch us all. Let's thread a macaroni necklace. Let's hone our social skills. Let's learn the happy face to wear, Despite of all our ills. But the rats chewed the coloured pasta as it pooled on the bedroom floor. You went to another grade where y