[Partially found, partially made.]

I am the interlocutor
A pile.

This is not linear,
nor lingual
dorsal thoracic

As your spine
makes my hand
into a trace

This dance is set to clicks and pops,
static tome of sound
jettison

so all of a sudden
the plural
won’t drop its ess es any more
Than I can stop this little lisp
That trips me up when
I am
needing not to be
so queeny

FOR A SECOND.

I weep in ecstasy
over a perfect squash
How the flesh expresses
a warmth contained barely
peelable

These words
which write themselves
over and over again
alone, a force, alone
unto themselves
will not abide
endless rereading
rehashing
how long is too long
to wait?

This must be the smallest elevator on earth.
A tangram.

Judy, folded and stained,
Watching over three Mary’s
As we map our holy intentions.

+c+=l=+i+c|
=k=+++=i=/
t+=n=o+w+