PHOTO SHOOT

Baby plopped in her arms

is all

just trying to be a person;

puffy eyelids

barely moving

intolerant

powerless

inevitable. 

txt to matt

An octopus clumsily striding 
across a shallow rocky seabed 
while ‘bolero’ plays in the background. 

Bubble sounds and someone in the audience 
thinking about how they forgot to return a phone call.

experiment 338: if i was a cowboy

Home is ever-changing, unfixéd mark,
gathering dust, hack-cut flowers in greening water
folding back, browning, white mold on stem,
cracked leather//always something to buff,
dust, fix—
and in all this decadence of decay
we hire staff to manage, maid/gardener—
begrudging, spray the leaves of the dead.

experiment 337: besalo

incredible, lacking empathy
i made sure you know
how much money
is in my bank account.

uff

una vida sin cojone
es nada sin poder.

giving cash, hand over fist
we have nothing but that.

falsehood of our livelihood;
run a tongue
down the barrel of a gun.

Non-sardonism

     She will die of this;
we will give her
the best life 
we can provide. 

experiment 336

 

You didn’t dumb it down. 
You pulled the hair out of that abscess so long it came out coiled, too. 
a garbage feeling yet gone over;
tangential conversation. Yet,
gone over—ludo changing, obviously.