[10/30] lisboa

there are legs growing from the ceiling staples

walking in heaves from boards and painted dry
there is threat in red mouth, wandering the brooks of cobble and gasping forward, lurching of teeth
soft-rolling of dentyne serpent, pair of rivers as pride, matted hair statue colonist painted himself gold
stood in the middle of the market, supple coins in tourist pockets, and holes
of jogging pant plaster writhing up walls
gaps in the spine and breast of
spray-designed dancer, machinist and losing
air from the gouges in the lung-pipe metal,
opening into streets, into two rivers, into blood floating out into the avenues of europe
on the bodies, on the chattel, on the human faces I sit nightly, on the writhing masses of history, on the hands that broke with sweat and blister, gathering in the night, dead and silent in the holds, swarming flies and clutches, man looking like me
packed this in, pushed back borders, burned
and looted continent, drags in wall, drags in city of blood and statue grows from pavement,
statue in own image, statue like
eyes,
statues like green gifts from other predatory nations, floating off the shore, drifting into the deep into the mouths of ruined ships filled
with corpses
that we forgot to make monuments for
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[9/30] end (iii)

iii.

words like entrail nebulae–buying

time and waking in the sky–sputtering out the thoughts

and grips on the plane seat handle, bump-death & all

gyroscopic drops from earth-ceiling, upside below &

scared of eye, scared of mirror, scared to blink between

heart beat on tuesday, fear of machines, fear of gym workout too long

& heart rate & fear from passing out on a track

legs still sprawling, spinning forward & clogging

lanes with air in the hand-runner that picked you up

you could finally imagine it fully, a

trinket-fragile,

impermanent thing.

[end (ii)] 8/30

ii.

cavernous bones & chair-beat

tapping of feet against harsh-wood & harsh-words spitting

from the mouths & there is existence in elevator

ride next to wood grain, self-awareness lurking beneath a tongue

focus guarding from harm, focus on the strong and

the good syllables, singular-drip in singular, wire

in spine-fingers of wraiths

stone tables, thread, & spoken for

7/30 [end]

i.

bite the cheeksides into rot &

turn hands as they go limp, legs festering in

pillows and damp jeans & sweat driven from the brain-work raining

from hair-forest,

weak & molting on ground; creaking of knee in dusk

walking to feel like alone, like imagine what it was

to breathe in another body

understand thoughts of hives buzzing around me,

tensions in the air space waiting above my head,

caterpillar like the handles of gates in ice-winter

chrysalis of skin and blood,

growing around bone

holding me close

5/30

it was a sound & something unseen, whispers waking in the lip underneath the dark corner now have speech, voice and arms & walk into living room in daylight, hanging jowls and threat-mouth always been here, always been around and been the one i saw in school & talk down and keep me in line with expectation, keep in line with all the children in system, in test room for money and apple like temptation sits on table, apple falling in the garden, apple of knowledge & bible in the class room bible on floor & hand over heart and stand up for football anthem, requirements of children, they lurking in the scrawl on the bathroom, in boy branded feminine crying in bathroom, in feminine fleeing boy crying in bathroom to flee, opening door to girls’ restroom & tears & support & scared & i watched this story but it is not mine to tell & the unseen sound was in the summer air, thick with flies & the plagues on a country already sick, already plagued with apathy & pressure & how thin the line can be between freedom and disaster, how simply and suddenly the once-invisible boot-politik is felt on neck, how quickly we started to eat ourselves, how fast the fingers move towards false protection and repair-narrative, how fast noise materialized out of the ether, becoming the strongarm, becoming red hats in dustbowl stadiums of rotten minds, coming into its own malice, loud & as far as eyesight can carry.

4/30

4/30

castle of sand & walkway spiral of saturn-rings

machine-firefly into dark evening sky, lost in aerial whine and

dipping wings aflutter like small & twisting fingers

this is in the cold, this hot and loud, this staring over shoulders in bar corners,

this hovering below the lamplight near strap-dress and spanish eye,

glasses and messy hair pours eyeballs into waterglasses, the blood

of tourists running in gothic streets, recolonization of the capitals as

the money moved overseas, left the countries without legs & ambition

bloated like it was karma,

this shouting from the walls, this from the roofs

this dangling from the beach umbrellas, swimming

in the warm quiet, hands

of broken skin

[3/30] Itadakimasu

[3/30] Itadakimasu

Art by wataboku

[itadakimasu]

orange stillness in the mountain gates, whispers in tongues

white covering the hillsides and streaming down from the clouds fond papers on the tables

I leave the augury to my hotel room, the self-demolition to find the closest thing to a tongue, to find lips that move like sounds, like wooden doors fit perfect into spaces unwarped by minutes,

forever a hearth, forever a paper-crane traveler

forever seated in unknown commissaries & finding no contact, walks with the mountains

instead

the world birthed this journey in saturday mornings and deep nights/ living art shipped into the mind-trunks & bundled across oceans, rubber boots on a hill, were they mine

or yours and did you take me here

who walks behind us in the snow

I have heard their guardians whisper at the peak so I hid inside the graves

walked again into a shop to offer fingernails and the rose of cheeks into plaques I could not read, though I  hear it is fortune, fortune of fools, of the lost & walking into graveyards full of fallen soldiers, dancing crows in the light rain & silent families on the taut side of the screens, sipping the steam, drinking mist, & I stand

watching their prayers melt

into stone