I A MERE SPADE

Perceive reverts          I’m incompetent

taking a creature and dissecting

it’s love into blue         pieces of hard candy

to suck on instead of smoking

is a way out     told me a soap carver

that lye is bipolar        told me a saint that

ravenous time-sucks would follow

hollow milk I talk through

in lieu of a diatribe      minute red ants

confectioners sugar on my legs

I swat at          a music box in my temporal

lobe     I’m scared of its dancer

rotating on a gear       

fear motivates excess in most species          

in most species            I am received             

an easier joy despairs exposed to voltage

Perceive averts            now I can handle

running absolute darkness    

through my threader              and heads

stay on             relief!         in a spiritual sense

all I want is a new blender

            what matters is the doubleness

held in everything before a blade

            I a mere spade before the black dirt

rolling rowing trowel shovel   and again

the hollow milk poured on it

now we have a soup    let’s eat

 without speaking       fuller and flow

HAND IN A GLASS

Into the ineffective water paling

 tributaries      a placed romantic

 earth   the trap

the stitch         the pendulum

on which I balance the horse

of my body      laud me for being

so moved         by labels placed

on words I know         concede me

this once         into the qualifying

water               into the misjudged

lake     I drip drop      off me

comes              off me comes repeating

feathers but just the word feathers

to roll into a pinafore

to pin up on a drying line        off me

comes slighted steam       a tutorial

for overload    a manufactured

lifetime supply            of care

fresh air           rewind the need for slowed

movement       weighted improved

ripple in the disappearing      divert

I am coursing              across

a hydrogen meadow    in a down

blanket            asking is this normal

rewind divination song symmetry

is this formally prescient        when can

I stop               drip drop down the word

whether           rain in singular

will heal the mare       dehydrated hay

and me the riding crop           me

the defective                come sit

in the birthing pool     lift from it

what you will               conveniently

staggered and approaching a quota

of heartbeats               the placed romantic

earth is mostly blue    and I too

pull shards from my green

belly    sublime to be so moved

by a glossed finger      lingering