night-blind

2: 40 dripped a universal language by code; rain
cry or hiss of a fox housing on forests edge
his eyes are wilderness
are emeralds peering out
the suture of night,
sage growing exiled
rasp-
berries,
traversing laments;
is to untie irony and chew on its endings –

indelible all is edible
so i hunt a cry that is this
lemma
lying next to my head almost touching my temples [i pretend to read his mind]
progress is heavy
gunfire fire [pause here]    fire
short in those checkered pyjamas
only worn in patchouli impregnated
nights radiating off a brittanica
clutching a map of summer and the flight routes of wasps

will be there
to assemble:
a wheel, a compass, book – talisman of change, repetition of melissa citron
to the subject of libertine that lives between the gaps of a cow like shaped cloud
the ego is vanilla pudding growing an exotic but constringent mold

still awake at 3:41 i note:
aligned orchards
full nihilists
mouth in nazis and beer and the ticking clock
spit out an idealist on a horse riding into a postcard
scenario
squinting eyes to decipher the imprint
– saudade –
i kill a beetle that is as small as the fingernail of a newborn
and breathe in the smell of karma
and the kerosine lamp
and mint bush
braiding a trail through sweaty childrens-hair

i am searching cupboards for the codeword of composition
to only grasp universals
where the nominative is an unhinged door.

art. fingerhut woman

art
is not
the finger casket; hut
not FINGERHUT
figtree
a nut fell or un
felt is covered with felt

art as the encyclopedia that ripens the month to a sum-

mer
at july unaware of the month
a thumb makes halt at the yellow traffic light; blinking suggests
color; automotive motif –  not framed,
a stroller screams or the insides of the lining;
a bundle with a face
sucking intimacy / mother & breast
on that park bench in olive butter tone
[last year around this time there was
fern growing wild where the WOMAN now nursing stares at earth].