I Don’t Call It Anything

Beyond this melting
point an allusive

pall of evasive
concatenations

the propelling
tyrannical

rhythms
betwixt foreboding

and botanical schisms
accumulating to what—

an era-inspecific
terminus engorged

on those
enfeebled

A hummed about
science or a

license for this
used demotic opacity’s

standard
predation?

A Familiar Volume

The messages of
genocide

fastened of hands–
this time, turning a way

not-never
to forgive:

a plan to plan to say

of new
commiserating

nights and nights over
remains;

the stolen, not located.

Dreiser’s Stick

Keep worrying
unseen

chastity
bears a telling

your favorite
squirt

‘has got to go’

the bite squared
such expense

pawed at
crumbs

and slight filling