the privatized body’s softest eye
scavenged, sparrow dangled by
the nerve, the chick’s maws open mewling
for new food, solar filter, through
the wing, the algae blooms from the eye
in the body’s center, that is the eye
the beak open, a skinless grape drains
white juice, garments luxuriate by
the water, the denim stained with black fluid
crusted, rivets rusting, the Space Jam t-shirt
growing moss & a weed protrudes thru the martian’s eye
the churning stream, the pinholes of light shot
from the belt buckle, run on, broken-in
leather, the trees surrounding the streambed
drained of sap, money, husk & beak-
shaped holes, wet bark plugged with semen
leaking semen, onto the nest, full of semen, tapped
for syrup over a fire, beyond the driveway’s meadow
flames dance around human bodies
in May, the native plywood bearing pagan text
layers that splinter, the body’s chest made
a goblet, made bread by a razorback, who split it open, having fallen in
/ / / / /
& digested it, the body
fertilizes poems, foments clouds shaped
like headless birds, teeth, baby hairs atop the feet
singed, when leaping fire, the stream-
bed where the body rotted, made into
earthly vein, fleshy vehicle of white
fish & spider eggs, water glowing from
runoff, like earth’s violin, from the riesling farm
the server hold, the stonewort absorbs minerals
& lawn clippings & regenerates as a carpet
in the burning body’s dugout skull
from the crystal socket, to the stream, from
the socket, to the stream, from
the space between nothing &
the pornographic cable splitting
history into scavenged wire, the VHS brain
inside the drone viewing a home video
of golden straw, little league, newborn
baby crying suckling a finger
the gleam of latex & disinfectant
in the hospital, hallway serotonin
consciousness emanating beneath
the door, of the birthing scene
the screaming partner drinking blue
Powerade eating Goldish or wallpaper
separating the bodies giving
birth, and paying money, and giving
birth, and paying money, and giving now the drone zeroes in
/ / / / / /
on the body splayed
w/ eggsac protruding, the gown bloomed
& flowered open into unidentifiable metal
implement entering flesh, to dig a strand
a pulsating rice-sized worm on a platter
the body mined, is a tungsten plug, is not
mine, is a made place of conflict
minerals evacuated of discernible
meaning, the drone monetizes the garden’s
medical history & treasured tomatoes
& ribbons of light when you’re
five years old & the stream of summer
goes on & on, forever, the frogs of pleasure
forever the blackberries, the Lego worm
the bonfire spitting out evening bled
from mechanized walls
from the drone’s motor, the drone skitters
the arboreal gap, the T-shaped
body, the drone whispers code
made by machines made from faraway
human words
/ / / / / / /
the drone motors, sees
absorbs flensing silhouettes, magic seeds
for pollen in pollen, for pollen
print heat, print cross-section of body
shocked into present language that
obeys, planetary circle, the body emitting
gas visible in thermal vision, to the drone
which records eye color & space between
eyelashes & the length of the gash from the collar-
bone to the ribs, morphs phenomena into images
into numerical data, into algorithms that deter-
mine probability of full eventual decomposition
to model a viable claim, per the subscription
plan, the bank, the speculative purchase
of ghost kitchen real estate with specters
leaking from windows
/ / / / / / / /
and as the body’s
exterior is absorbed its cosmic fluids
stew & release smells that translate
into musty sound, the body dreams of eating
an ice cream bar in a field in the sun
by the gas station, by the interstate
with spiritual sewage humming
& grass turns forest, reality molds
to spectral scale of moving time
the Rolling Rock bottle half-buried
in dirt, calcifying into sand
or loam, for slag of heaven or crystal heap
the circle dead, but still comes up
as clover, buttercup leaves, reflects
the body, is eaten, by skimmers
on the water, which keeps churning
having by accident, fallen in
themselves at the
Bile that rolls across the ceiling and drips 
protrusions. A well of nothing, parturient with a small pink lump, goosefleshed
labyrinth of hallways and boxes; a brick tower blooming upside down—a
blood flowing home, passing heat to their tunnels—exploding from the iron ring at the end of the barrel—pale mollusks that splatter underfoot.
—algae flowing
Shadows rippling like water. Colorless light caught in your
the horizon. Candlelight quivering against the darkness like oil in water.
Moving white specks like storm-blown snow swirl in the air over his head. He doesn’t
spaces you can’t see.
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 