Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
it’s not a game. It’s the last time he’ll let us in late.
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
Sipping
swallowing
licking
cup-fraction
where her lips
could
have left behind
a drop.
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
Will you get married?
Yes
When?
Soon
To who?
Me
Who are you?
Papa
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Lullaby: low, slow song for soothing to sleep. Adult: differential position / insomnia. Jasmine: in Sufi aromatherapy, a bond-strengthening essence. Creature: living thing / product: of man’s imagination, generally fantastical in nature.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
Sipping
swallowing
licking
cup-fraction
where her lips
could
have left behind
a drop.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
it’s not a game. It’s the last time he’ll let us in late.
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
Will you get married?
Yes
When?
Soon
To who?
Me
Who are you?
Papa
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Lullaby: low, slow song for soothing to sleep. Adult: differential position / insomnia. Jasmine: in Sufi aromatherapy, a bond-strengthening essence. Creature: living thing / product: of man’s imagination, generally fantastical in nature.
Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.
a type of speech
MINUTIAE
from the same arm of the scales
You satiate childhood with fables of fountains
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
Sipping
swallowing
licking
cup-fraction
where her lips
could
have left behind
a drop.
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.
The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.
CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.
a type of speech
MINUTIAE
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Lullaby: low, slow song for soothing to sleep. Adult: differential position / insomnia. Jasmine: in Sufi aromatherapy, a bond-strengthening essence. Creature: living thing / product: of man’s imagination, generally fantastical in nature.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.
it’s not a game. It’s the last time he’ll let us in late.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
from the same arm of the scales
You satiate childhood with fables of fountains
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Sipping
swallowing
licking
cup-fraction
where her lips
could
have left behind
a drop.
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Lullaby: low, slow song for soothing to sleep. Adult: differential position / insomnia. Jasmine: in Sufi aromatherapy, a bond-strengthening essence. Creature: living thing / product: of man’s imagination, generally fantastical in nature.
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Sipping
swallowing
licking
cup-fraction
where her lips
could
have left behind
a drop.
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.
it’s not a game. It’s the last time he’ll let us in late.
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
Sipping
swallowing
licking
cup-fraction
where her lips
could
have left behind
a drop.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.
The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.
Lullaby: low, slow song for soothing to sleep. Adult: differential position / insomnia. Jasmine: in Sufi aromatherapy, a bond-strengthening essence. Creature: living thing / product: of man’s imagination, generally fantastical in nature.
visualize the voice of thought.
think the image of the voice.
provoke destiny. play.
from chance, from the sigh.
understand the force that links
the image to the name.
the name is an image.
the image is a verb.
play. nothing is chance.
destiny is a game.
everything is destiny.
—