remorse code
nurtured by an age of
guilt-infused literacy i say, john,
i'm too happy to write:
too engaged in
manually cranking
the climate and
rejecting
electromagnetic
interference
an assistant was needed to
fluff and
fold the crook
in a mother's
arm , peel
an orange in mock meditation,
avert his/her
eyes from the bus-
stop
i'm sending you
apologies through
a sound telegraph
, then death threats
lichtenberg
figures threading the
sheets , xeroxed
to my face:
simulating lightning
the audience grows
it started before i
graphed dinosaurs
beating
the shit out of each
other
before my philosophy
professor made
snow angels
when white space
detonated the congregation
noted the mechanism
of an index finger
defunct receivers
,uncharted
streets curve
for him for him then
him
women
have had their due this one is
for him
despite my colleagues
&nbs i've
never delved into
sex ,or love even
: this is
ongoing research
about skin grafts
our return to fraternal
cities ,calf-deep
in seders
; your vomit subtle
at the root
of a
budding oak
