of the bodies, disarmed, who make of themselves easy prey, splice II
of the bodies, disarmed, who make of themselves easy prey, splice I
Edge Circuit I
the same ends half built and buried
here the end wheels and i am half convinced i am not dead
their path, too, must be curved
untitled (swarm, swell)
hallucinatory field (one)
at and to the same end
at the same velocity
at the same altitude
the zero hour when needs come out to breathe
in this diaphanous stillness, pleasure has been found wanting
Edge Circuit II
sundial’d nude, one
on the balance (after collapse)
floated echo latched to superstructure (sutured)
the many instances where edge meets to wedge and unmoors (the after-being of collapse in riot time)
residue in the gap between event and origin
yolanda
you can’t miss what i know i can get for free
silver warmed by the morning sun
have room enough for spirit and weigh too much for flesh
the lime green fluorescent tint edge of bitter (let’s straighten it out)
(i can) feel it when you lie to me
held, I invert, I lift (nothing if not the moment dark space collisions itself)
to be flung, raw (into air splitting violence)
Atop the electrified plastic, into the enemy-stricken hands of freedom (NYT April 21, 1964)
on the balance
Untitled (meanwhile a stall)
breach (a notion of freedom)
the meaning (for the dead)
the devil will creep in over night
untitled (headstone on my grave)
