A man who weighs ninetyfour pounds has only twelve stories and a certain contact with light. I am laying out pieces of meat in your brain. Susurrus irregularities of, listen, some boring night. Combinatory renewel of figure arcs. To ask you, in your own internment, from within the cast of your mound, again, what has it been without permissivness, a vague collection of coraldust in the lungs? Leaves and the unclean resussitation of your hands. The letting go of massive amounts of light. The special halt of disambiguation. Hey. You inhabit me and I am forced to go toward a window feeling extravagant. You are raking leaves and the pile you create becomes the mound you will now inhabit. Watercolored animals, tunnels, and everything producing distraction. The world of a ninetyfour pound animal is, when unstartled, a silent world. Inverted bell carved over with salt. You are the leafpile and your cremated branches exist perpendicularly. Victory and its metonymic accompanyment. Which parts of you move unsmelled through winter? I am the first to progress toward eviceration. Hello. I am the first to project light.
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Are you really poets?
I am a poet
A man who weighs ninetyfour pounds has only twelve stories and a certain contact with light.
I am laying out pieces of meat in your brain. Susurrus irregularities of, listen, some boring night. Combinatory renewel of figure arcs. To ask you, in your own internment, from within the cast of your mound, again, what has it been without permissivness, a vague collection of coraldust in the lungs? Leaves and the unclean resussitation of your hands. The letting go of massive amounts of light. The special halt of disambiguation. Hey. You inhabit me and I am forced to go toward a window feeling extravagant. You are raking leaves and the pile you create becomes the mound you will now inhabit. Watercolored animals, tunnels, and everything producing distraction. The world of a ninetyfour pound animal is, when unstartled, a silent world. Inverted bell carved over with salt. You are the leafpile and your cremated branches exist perpendicularly. Victory and its metonymic accompanyment. Which parts of you move unsmelled through winter? I am the first to progress toward eviceration. Hello. I am the first to project light.
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