Oy

Oy
the hollow men,
and the women they think
about, and the men they dream
about, and the hollowness that
entails.

Oy
the wondering
of the wounded, and the auctioning
of the offered, and the gendering
of the neutered, and the continuity
that entails.

Oy
the sallow fish,
and the waters they cry for,
and the barking tides they
try for, and the hooks of schoolmates
sighed for, and the bubbling black
oils
on their tails.

Elevate

How do you
hold onto a self
must be washed
and dried, first.

Or

A dirty way
easier to grip?

It be diseased
and marked.

Or

A doctor’s appointment,
confirmed,
consumated,
required, too.

Loose and
at-ledge
(who is supposing),

why it retains
hypothetical status,
is insecure.

Her Seeing Night

They came,
red dark bursts of flame,
thirty-six letters spun, living deeds,
unloving pupils, bumbling tongues.
Their foundation, a high,
mountainous host
of world-lent reputation,
built talk upon silent song,
blood-caked, lashing purple,
magnifying
the gaping electorate.

Sufferin’
neck-bones bent, wrenching,
rainbow-caped,
incinerating laughter?

Radiated in the few million,
their mud-slick ear,
anger, hirsute genitalia,
a tough suspense—

stone knuckling
white viscosities, the shine, the light,
one stub-node humbling,
two binary agreements dancing,
and delightful fever
assembling prayerful,

shawl hurt, garment rung,
tapestries kicked, sandal slung.

Frenzied, slither, broth pinked,
outside a main, a graying lung.

Decade

On a postmodern roam through post-
mortem Rome,
my main man and his ridiculous dream,
accumulation,
a signature union, square zeroes,
half a downtown away,
believing his
why-live-here under a distinct,
defunct districting, a Southeastern seaport’s
caucusing clockface,
illumined,
vibrating that vision, scorched-out,
yellow—faded memory, fading polaroid,
finally, wholly processed.