infantile

cataloging the western, the consumables
under some bush behind someones house leaning a forest
out a dirty window of a
end of this continent

made it into the woods
without losing feet and
v flying birds flying beneath the overcast
i
verbalized horizons
till the color looked like the inside of a mouth,

[i] had written out your name
past passing
decapitated landmarks crypt –
o-
graphic
and visceral
that seem only to leave
me
a dense
guttaral sound of n n n stutter-
ing on limbs s; teething bones
animals going home
but where is that
if not everywhere
if not the mouse is everywhere if not the duck dies everywhere
housing elevated south in that pond
that pond veining not
without ripples of water; undone disturbance
a bass undertone of koi flapping fins
somnolent now just a-
mount of collective silence. [fingering the notes on my desk
as if they could talk through papercuts]

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.