“Let’s you n’ me snap the furcular.”
We did— you won the larger half.
i had no wishes anyway: i wanted you
to win. i tracked the parabola of your mood
a good few years— i saw//see
no evidence a wish came true
—didn’t you make one after all?
Were you content back then?— Any regrets?
Everything i see these days
anticipates nostalgia: i lost something |
i am losing it | i will lose it— it resets
everything to 0— i’ll start over (that’s what i do).
—A warning: don’t cramp me in
a singular effort of mobility… all push no pull
: we are not rivers… fluids circle our interiors
…flip the bulb on in the brain…
|—“we | need not follow | the example
of blood | its consequences |—there is
autonomy between | process & product.”
How to interrupt the glut of fluids with a leaf or twig…
…how to quit hunger on a diet of blessed wafers?
An egg cup of crap wine won’t draw
me God’s profile: i’d rather be all process
& nothing to show for it.