In & Out Of Infinity
 

books dredge into computers when batteries and charge are gone
if we're upstream enough and spinning in that rare wet spring when all shirts come off in layers
and deep tears of remembrance cause we have no branches left to split into fire
as the wind is always rush-hour lost in whistling predation when behind the wall
a shadow becomes a wing,    a stir of dust is days of not stopping:
some take    some bake    some stir and blur
assuming actions as our names, the purses of the unexpected
lost until we got here
                                  shape a key,    stretch a membrane
when nothing else can reach us a pocket pours open,
    food from a scabbard,    light from dancing in our chairs
these feet were made for geography, dipping just below the surface of the river
where silvered veins of never breathed air, birthed aright, a bubble in the belly,
a pill the moon might swallow
                                               as houses empty, as beds become narrower
i change the sheets at the start of every month has the same name,
as if temperature changes identity, the gap between my palm and forehead,
lapping my food from my plate, inhaling sunshine through the back of my head

kept looking like someone who cares lives inside, huddled by a fire but not surrendering
winter will pass, spring comes knocking at every orifice
can openers return from the south, the best newspapers come around food
this far inland the only fish have wings, not a bird I can't catch with my netted arms
if you eat all of it what will remember to grow next time

green gates    yellow windows    i wave my hand and music appears














Experienced Light
 

wearing down toast, reputations;
how my crotch is higher than your butt
as we're pressed together in this boxy transport hazy with burning oil,
human incense, pressure smoker,
letting gravity do the cooking, chasing bison over cliffs,

biscuits in a tube, cool whip in a tub,
you gotta rinse & scrub it at least 4 times before cooking
to remove its memories, the mineral parts of it
the last to be digested, put away til I could figure out what it was,

back when earth was several planets
only extraordinary voyagers could travel between
when nothing smells or tastes like home so you chew on your ship,
you peel off parts of wall to wear, thinking wires carry blood,
healing wounds with soldering irons

not just what but how
when dinner's two hours late
hunger as alarm clock
an all-consuming relationship with time
burrowing in labels, recipes, molecular formations
drifting like continents across the vast stomach ocean
i can't see the next meal yet
you mus'n't be ginger at the event horizon
but I don't know what it is i'm seeing, my bone computers elsewhere,

we keep breaking and reattaching til the heat imbues
we eat the inside and wear the out
emulsifying to accurately reflect
star froth    ocean clouds    insatiable rips in asphalt