chinsakka

we are concerned with a way of living i am concerned for this bookshelf there are temperature differences of 5-8 degrees in every room of our house plants have this glassy look like they are not quite following what was said me too i have a live actual hummingbird in my throat it must have taken a wrong turn somewhere not sure who needs more soothing today it is july seventh then it won't be it will be some other day

this is where i become an inescapable box put inside myself over and over again i am caught also within pairings of words parturition & sparagmos exhort & exultation somewhere in the valley of the uncanny or in the forests of the marvelous i'm appealing to you, i'm feckless i'm fruity, i'm peeling, i want to belong to someone after all & i like the way you bend over me speaking of parturition & sparagmos (both a kind of rending, or rearing, both bloody) speaking of favonian, austral winds speaking of your shoulders-wow-they injure me the way your clavicles correlate to your sockets & fold out from your neck it's origami I can't handle or o

we work hard on a construction site, we visit the structure late at night take out our rulers and thoughtfully bend, is this a house or a monument to escapism? we hold hands and let the shape overtake our skins we scream out, and breathe in becoming wild, changing features, charming smiles if I was a book in my own room, would you read out loud, would you consume ring out the words in your small mouth, would the story sound nice when read aloud? I have questions small and mild, I stay quiet like a child don't wake up it's still too soon, don't move yet, I'm still confused let's wear hardhats out of style, I've got suspenders you can bor

we are driving you ask where is the accelerator i say its here in my pulse so you press your thumb against my throat making the car jolt&race down the highway we pick up speed, you tell me to say when i don't speak but i shake my head a little,

i am trying to distinguish the lines on your body that are curved or just falling away from me diagnoses: all lines are falling away from me your belly is tight with inhales i eye the dusty gloss of hair trembling slightly i like feet generally speaking i find them humble. assiduous. i look down at my feet from the top of my body and i agree with it and all the lines falling down my body and your body are not machines they are more like middle management, a body bureaucracy with too many papers getting shuffled about and filed improperly we mean well, anyway, we mean better look at us more kindly look down at us and agree

i found two fans in the closet i put one in my bedroom somehow it moved the air so i knew what it'd mean to feel you curling my sheets with your real-live molecules

over and over we call to each other like some agitated birds how dare you how dare you how dare you i want to leave words in your mouth like a collection of marbles i want to leave marbles rolling in your mouth yes, your jaw is clotted, growing sore but please consider the glass carefully fill your mouth in my least favorite fairy tale, she spills tallow on the sleeping prince and is banished from the kingdom he is a polar bear except at night, she goes to see him at night but knowing the shape of things is not what you do in in love she was gravitationally ejected: like a comet i am coated in wax myself

my hands are full my hands are empty my hands measure 7-and-a-half inches from wrist to middle finger I tend to walk with my thumb (4.25") tucked into my palm (does this mean I lack ambition?) yes, I am living outside my skin lately I am in a family way, I am full up of family family falling every which way I could learn names of plants to please my father or names of birds: I could get ornithological I could learn better meanings of the word anchorage all month long I rub perfume into my wrists I am teaching myself new ways to be brave barbie lifts up hair from my neck (unknown measurement), with a razor uncovering a dry brown riverbed

something crash-landed today at the crux between my neck and skull suddenly all mailboxes looked post apocalyptic and i felt injured terribly by fields of small blue flowers at the top of some hill, running came crash-tumbling through my legs like a scream/like a whole colony of pines my lungs buckled and wept, my pants were falling down this was not exercise this was a cave-in I fell down through my body over and over, a marionette in fast motion surrounded by unerring, uneaten sky. we say things like "i didn't mean to hurt you" as if getting hurt was ever a choice!