Page 49 - Iterations:Other/Is

I clean another’s house for shelter,
and while cleaning the fridge
help myself, through #nding, to two sugar cubes laced with LSD, capsules #lled with psilocybin,
skin colored amphetamines I’ve already cleaned the toilet
I am bee in ink—
a tulip hewed brews in talk & TALK & loops back in caps lock
for a chance
in the library, Carl Jung
ruffles my hair in prayer—
tells me later in bed
on paper
in sister chords from constellation in equinox of chronic depression and the hero’s journey
I am desperation between bowing magician and withering crowd.
I am remember. a sea-stirred foresight rendered in bones, quantum synapse, tongue upturned salival to birch tree stump.
{your father says if kept close to concrete there will be structural damage, in increments}
I am a deity for kindling; the sun is seven letters, all of the coffee is iced, we wrest asteroids in a confusing exchange of sweat inviolate. There is swift undergarment philosophy and I become emerald in crookd contact & anxiety waits, baron of a sea soon to be crossed endlessly; this space a story which has been tolled under (uorescent, near a bin
proclaiming THANK YOU and uproots this tree
burns the roots
sings a zodiac overture limply; as Jesse, from Jay, moves towards a #eldstone he installs carpets
but wants to sell our words for future mother star
or a fourth dimensional sistrum
that was then, and that was then too
a fungus milked from follicle towels
alchemy at Dogtown, or Dighton, or decomposition