Why for the terrible
and loathsome burden
of freedom Gummed
movements in amber are
rubbed upon a thick blue erection
Stands a building a dwelling-in that
is teaching us how to be upright
against a horizon within a ground
A blue so blue and a black
like the strings unraveled
from a blanket’s weft re-homed in my mouth
and whistled over the jug of time
An imperfect rhythm empty of space
these words lacking wave are
loping into the breach on a stiff decline
Spilt drawers unzipped, upended
particles unpocketed and
pushing paint into the corners
behind my teeth
Savoring the colors my tongue darts
to track the guts of books
belayed round the split text-block
The actual words in their thingness
hued and unbroken by prism
A piece of trapped lunch worried at
until freed my voice finds a rush
over a swirl of color while flattened paint
is dragged crying from the corner
onto a caboose of other end-things
With a perfect pulse and a shelf of fingers
in seance and glued tip to song tip
caught as catch can, that is
loping round a circle in decline
It steps upon itself in overstuffed hymns
forgetting our births
in human ignorance
This facticity of incompleteness
a vector of things possible
yet undone and tasking
our tongues to find choice
