Page 90 - Iterations:Other/Is

they tilt wrist until until spilt
lager gold makes trail from copper to womb curls free hand for to make scalp arch
into mouth — an irresponsible song
my eyes dim sliver silver sink back here; the heart of tree
our neighbors sip from split worms
picking out one of many hearts with tweezers
posting, without delicacy to the singularity they, those with me, bite my lip for me
drinking your beer in between page turns
understanding little I sip & sip
the blade valleys through tongue in #elds of baby birds or circle families
or liquid prison — they pick my nose — I’m taught
, seasick from late winter cavern revolutions
made in 2’s and 4’s — two hands make four
to waltz I place the cup between our tied shoulder blades
to move for the King#shers and Purple Herons circling us counter clockwise