Aping the Eucharist
She is a mumbling hypnotist
an inhabitant of the non-dimensional universe
I am an inkling a reflex
a foaming cartoon hyena
She is a morphing ochre shadow behind translucent hospital sheathing
a blushing of clouds by a cat chasing laser
a gaussian waft of early evening chemtrails
(Things needn’t always
be so heavy)
I am a pile of protons pining for breakfast links
the least
Buddhist Buddhist
a chunk of pulsating hive mind riddled with errant computer coding
(The Kinesiologist says “read more fiction”)
Love: I can’t tell what sustains it
(“Turn away from the drunken porch wicker1”)
She is a mermaid if mermaids had weapons
soft in their use and handling2
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My ringtone is from Ringu
[the world is eating itself]
I am like a Mech3 but opposite
[I put down the remote
but the channels still change]
—she listens to Stravinsky, consistently, upon waking—
Each day I ape the eucharist
[operation: MINDCRIME3]
I’ve made it my practice to never finish a book
In earthquakes, the land moves in waves.
(There’s just too much to be afraid of)
1aka a desire for charmingly outdated wallpaper
2“Let’s follow the serpentine path in the overpriced Botanical Garden”
3aka POLISHING THE OBELISK