Aught, no. 15 (2006)
aerosol
throne of whiteout
king
of empty sets
and here
hanging in the
interstice
a paper mache god
gender-bending
blogging, yeah
you can almost
see
his
dactyls run
your fingers through his
free minutes
on weekends.
I don't want a big tome.
just stitch my face shut
& call it loss. call it: letting-
-go. I'm/so tired. more
tired-than: even-now-you.
in this
superscript
on the
wall
of this
barn.
unholy barn.
white bird.
of stone
sinking
and hood
of another
car
folded over.
we roll. we
roll on.
unbutton
the years
the sun, the hours
unbutton
the minutes. the
choked-dance
crooked arrow
of reason. the
barking-dog-sky.