Sunday, June 25, 2017

junk post

a very very thin membrane
wafer thin, like
a shaft of sun on the eyelashes
or a trumpet sounding the blues 

the sun wheel
belongs in the home
from whence the spokes emanate
into a thousand chariots
across the heavens

open nose
fast faucet

the memory of
the conversation of a river
would keep me happy 
through any torture

they opened my legs
and peeled away the skin
how interesting to see myself
am I in pain?

"I am not my body—
you cannot destroy my song"

in arguing for this
I disembowel myself
for publicity

I publish the essay
to discovery only
the fat survives

peeling off the laughs
like old enamel paint
the ships enter my fingers