troublewithme

when i  speak to someone who has not set foot in the house of my paralysis i know there is work to be done. 

so often i was a spy beneath a bridge, or drinking in the department’s basement until i was saying something profound like “the ones i love the most i like the least.” 

i missed my brothers & sisters after the reassignment. it became fashionable to retreat to the mountains with several men to yell at the waterfall & splash around like kittens. i sought legacy inside retention. d– sent me a video of one & says she wants to sharpen her nail so she can puncture their large forehead veins which i suggest is like a penis. 

it is said that nature went mad before man did. 

o sweet thing, sweet mediciney thing–shade too can be inhabited. i fought for my death over the table. you, on the other hand, didn’t even have cabinets. your contrapositive movements looked like a rainforest cafe so i figured “hey, why not call?” 

i would have gone without you, iron. i ran clear & everyone brought me these shitty cards. then at last the drive through attendant let me bounce. in amber. in sunshine. in warmth. 

cold hands cold heart. i thank you for lessons in bone cleaning. i will never forget the smell of picking up, my mouth rancid with hate. please wash it like a shell. i find you an altar filled with licorice, gold, & tobacco. 

tell me again the racial injury of lineage. when i met your daughter she was abducted–she couldn’t stop stealing baby birds from nests & trying to raise them beneath her bed. why did you let her carry me in her breasts like a kangaroo? she was eating the mosquitos & bringing back petrified shit from missionary trips. the bakery had treats for dogs & nobody thought we were dogs for eating it. so often food needn’t be food. like a horse for example. they will eat until they are dead or die from eating. to endlessly belly i have gained perspectives on parts of me that want to go crazy. when i eat the air it is interesting. within its control words or doom. 

i remember your skin was like tissue. 

i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. 

like the woman i was white. 

like a new girl. 

cornucopia sleeves & nicotine. but basically starving, starving, starving. 

i brought you monarchs in my hair yet you ask if i’ve ever read frutas what? girl i will tell you a game. to get close i hushed. i saw the saran. do you know what it said? 

the flower is always in the almond. 

perhaps beauty is a thing so small it can only be seen with magnets or great, quick particles. 

on the upper east side i pronounced sarcoma before a workshop of masters. you set your lips against the soul a surgery worse than marriage. even the melancholic was irenic.  

the birds / the swimming sirens / the translucent spans the wings / the green suns the green suns / the violet flat grasslands / the cries the laughs the movements / the women affirm in triumph that all action is overthrown. 

i know i was an alligator in that waiting room because i had birds up my nose. brought to be made to care about & eat well. 

i wore a blue star for the mothers–for the ladies. 

to dress is another way to dine. 

i would wake up each morning after being chased around & record myself eating hamburgers. i carried what smallness was left & peeled by the river. in fact, i am not gracious nor am i generous. tell me a time it isn’t good to be right & i will wait. or a violence so un-american we might inexist with it. here is one. 

i was the best wife in the world because i stayed in trouble sometimes. 

i mean the floor is a perfectly fine place from which to lose the potential to lose. one day you too will wake surrounded by receipts, global perspectives, living artefacts, sunglasses, shadows. 

to inhabit shade is to pray with your eyes.

look: a spy is also the one who steps into another & slits herself against the wall. life in an important sense does not work. you are born on the beach. now cast. now cast. the faberge snaps like bubble wrap. umbilical cords similar to urine labeled waste tissue. 

i wonder what great oaths & transnational complaints suffocate beneath the patronage of cultural boosterism? all floating things islands of abyssal intimacy–how when falling for so long you learn to lean back, maybe even pose.

i too fancied myself someone who could lounge in the pendular steam 

like a pitbull with her ears cut off is how one woman described it. 

i believe it was deleuze who said the map to the face is routed through the spectral. 

what could a surgeon see my ancestors couldn’t though mostly money.

the eyes themselves functioned like organs of touch. 

i would place captions beneath myself for others’ minds to fuck. 

“with a little something extra” could even mean i don’t think about it anymore. 

give me your hand & i will show you how it’s done. 

words are clamor-filled shells inhabited by the half living creased into the half dead. 

i will make you a large bowl of fruit & tell you how i cut across the tundra like an orange lightning bolt. 

in dry shadows i find my body most. the rain lists different interfaces. 

when it warms up the city discharges mounds of electronic waste we go out in search for digital cameras. instead, we find patterns to bind our ribs & waists in. 

often to love without possession requires pre-quake precision of stained inattention. 

grown gently. grown sadly. yes, there is oil dripping from my mouth & filling up my head. 

yes, i lick the spokes.

yes, the mouth is a dirty place impossible to disinfect though quickly healed. 

cixous asserts love is not having.

infinitely closed, dense with pinkish straight old stems. infinitely serried, older & grayed / on the vast, deep, messy bed a velvety cry. / a velvety city. 

so i reach you where the labor of play breaks down in the great colosseum of poor aim. i shoot flowers from the nightboat. 

i mean, is not disassociation the commandment of a possessive inattention? 

so i dream of cities filled with highly specific reading groups & performances attended by poets & architects alike. how they stand amid a very large bear trap stretching to the roofs of surrounding tenements others bent inwards like claws. the city walks on a tightwire. it’s a city balancing over a great net aflame glistening like the jam of a strawberry heart.