We Clamor We Like The Sound Of It

C-major sky           what's your favorite shape of stammer?           O have I encountered you
quantum glitter            like my relationship to the river 


I took 
the word for fireworks 
Found my month 
in the knuckle rhyme 
Let's visit the park we don't know 



Arboretum of tenterhooks           we pour water in the dead           what are these crops of? 
We keep snowballs in the freezer for the summer          to surprise it 


It turns 
out language 
is the other people 

Is another person's 



Lunch alone at home          & I say to my face in the plate's glaze             This is the only life I
I round up:           Let's conspire 


Are you sad? 
Do you have wet hair? 
The image is a mortal thing. 
To dwell, to leave traces. 



My lung a canoe caught           in the branches of a river     expands like the night I
learned to swim underwater           my lung contracts with fog           how I turn the light          
off at daybreak 


Ovarian cancer 
Uterine cancer 
Cervical cancer 
Multiple sclerosis 
Leukemia springing from the left leg



If my harvest isn't disease            guilt is a failure to hush when our little pieces go
pang           geranium & grapefruit 
But if I'm caring for myself then who            am I not?             We clamor to reverberate       


To bounce off of you claim 
the tin-sound. 
Two pages stuck together. 

Packing disguised as unpacking. 
What if I need more time? 
A wooden coin, your clogged nostril. 
Clods of grass we hold up like scalps. 



Has anyone noticed my arms are sparklers           the flaming kite cutting the grass           
I put my head inside the vase to hear the stems           If I've discarded my parts what makes
this cave shape? 


A sugar cube for each ant. 
Our plates pile up, chucked 
out the window. 
Are your sounds inside 
the paper asylum? 

Glitter on the knuckle.



Radishes & powdered mustard I place before you           red like by bleeding 
            I mean I blur I come together &         we're in unison we're a parsnip party we
played out the language:           a yellow tint your hair loosens 

I caught you busting 
a scab to wrench a scar. 
I cusped? We broke 

the clasp of the orange 
dress acquired through language. 
You didn't give me up or 
you didn't give. 




I think about motion            about what I want to sustain            the sound of a fishtank 
& now a bubble burst & now a world           There's nothing to scrape off of the leaf-stained


They jingled. 
They live on a bicycle farm. 
They clamor & we let 
them take that. 
As all yellow is gold.