EDIT
Leaning back into a turf, glazing out
into gauze. 3 middle ear bones, the better
to melt you with. One emphatic phlox voice
makes you think of the stress of the tongue- not
to tap at - to bang out like a Bewick’s
wren in proportion to its size. Makes you
think of the sea spray like bubbling semen
puttering on silicates. The blue
mold that binds cheese in the center on out
pounds up frothing like a Doberman. Wind
will scratch at your eardrums, lick them with salt.
Land break.
Oak to bring out your color. Gold light for
the yellow in your teeth. There’s something
about your 2-ranked equitant leaves and
zygomorphic symmetry that doesn’t
add up. Oh, you, hawkmoths. Long and short
proboscids. Lay down scents of jasmine on
your appendages- wait till dusk to unswell
your guard cells and let me in. Some mutants
are timeless and I’ll see to it that you
get yours. By the squiggles of your skull, the
texture, I’ll tell you the day you will die.
Screen for the mice, death’s face, ache outward with
your pig’s nose. I’ll see to it. I’ll suffuse
you with anticoagulants, you’ll lose
me on the hunt to the haunt and I’ll pile
your bones. Light pulse of 30 minutes. Far
Red. Shift your phase. Turn off expression of
C genes, sepallata 3. I know you
are blind, but you still have ganglion cells.
You express melanopsin. Super
chiasmatic intact. You’re fine. You are
fine. So which one of you is real. This is
a time I never lived in.