Angel Number 777
I asked you to fuck me from behind & self-actualizing there
was a generative friction, but I haven’t written. High noon is hardest
overeating in the sitcom’s glare. There you go again, refusing your life
because words are too local. This species of time getting off on pleasure
like when the moon is full but you forget to look. Then erupt the stars
all over the water. We drink to wreak havoc on feeling. Dependent on fantasy
& nostalgic for a mindset we could no longer access. Unlearning the notions that healed us.
Home from the skate park, Laura makes cafecito like her abuela. I’m a little stoned
& I want to crawl inside the way her hands work. My breath commences
when I see M back from the dead, clowning around across the yard.
The architecture of my desire gives me whiplash each time it inflates.
Was it you that called him back when his jaw fell open, asking death to crawl in?
The punks in the pit coach in the ten directions of the neck. Sometimes we talk shit
like you’re still here, because you are. Everyone misses you. They send their love.
On the A train, I heard a girl say that sometimes you just pick a side
& argue it, whether you believe it or not.The phlebotomist ties me off
excavates a flow & there is nothing particularly poetic about any of it.
I fall into sleep where certainties are inverted in planes of smeared sound.
My kitten winks from the window as the sun spanks us into service.
Released from law, I grew as sapient as a star thrashing along God’s Gaussian Curve.
The dearth in me is light as I drive into the spangled afternoon.
Traffic on I-35
loosens & my love
stands the gravity
of the vow
Learn to give
in time of ecocide
in the debased base-
ment of my desire
the limits of gender
& cheap weed I’m so buff
Trimming down there
with kid Fiskars
over the bathroom trash
Baby fat rolls in
my neon bikini.
We learn to ride
the high inside.
Each day a threat
to the general
as tradition begs
to be fucked anew
I size down
on goth ennui
& I know shyness
might devour me
through the whisper system
I am season’s pet
a sun headache
on the nude beach
I whittle my little life
into use. That’s how
this whole thing works
the bones into posture
& the binaries glister
My heart a crystal
a turning exuberance
When Light Buckles
I turn the crystal of smoky quartz / in the rotisserie of my palm / as if heat could bypass / the fleshy bounds of my integument / & harness the intelligence of the lattice within / when gravity collaborates with chance / to explode the grain beyond the grid / & across the hardwood floor my celestial orientation fibrillates / to the gesticulations of the palms outside / a prophecy through emergency music / although its symmetries are compromised / the debris of its pattern radiates wholeness / you’re flushed / thrumming with nerves / but you are already so perfectly entwined in the assembly of each earthly moment / at the yoga studio / a laboratory of movement the discoveries are not tangible but cognitive / a genius of a situation / to dilate the aircape outside I come to the beveled edge of the window / sipping synthetic matcha / as the dawn ekes into place my mind a regular map / that fizzes as it knows / ferments feeling into fact / & organizes life-force through beauty / as the experiments of God multiply / & ornament each day
Hot Red Velvet
I want to eat the ass of our reunion
because my genius was not inclined towards labor
Disappear the self, rainbow the plate
That’s the way uh huh, uh huh I like it
I knew what he stood for & what I thought he stood for
& because I didn’t know if I stood for anything
In the slack mental condition to which
the hot current of presence adheres
I turned my body into that ancestral instrument of
you-know-what. The Egyptian geese travel in pairs
Their gaze unabashed as if they know
we’re walking back to your house to fuck.
Desire sets the will alight, or into derangement
I watch an iguana eat bundt cake off the patio
Like just another thing to do. This life a celebration
of entanglement, the kinetic volley of attentions.
We catapult ourselves around small corners of the world
as wave begets wave & the valleys click open
Beneath the ampitheater of cloudwork. Things are
as they are drawn. Fate is time, the disintegration of the body
As it unfurls. I relinquish the hounds of productivity
Like when your roommate took a solo camping trip to Moab
& fucked an influencer off an app in the canyons
& each day ate dinner an hour earlier.
Ecotrauma at Claire’s
Today the agora of the mall
percolates a voltage
only product could satisfy.
Erotic elation peering into Build-A-Bear
& the display cases of the Great American Cookie.
The palor of the slack-jawed lunchers
their wet, dynamic mouths
in the light off Panda Express.
I clutched your hand in Abercrombie
scrambled through a mass of girls
to buy a healing solution from Claire’s
for the ears I pierced in my bedroom, since infected.
The anxiety of adornment so palpable inside the megastructure
as the brands achieve the overlap of self & fantasy.
I kiss you in the car, show you an ad for a lamp
that mimes the moment the sun sets.
Yesterday you were bedridden by a virus that stole our year.
A sheen of cold sweat as the vaccine instructed your body
to replicate the proteins on the virus’s surface layer.
How lucky I am to be the witness of that transaction
offering blue Gatorade like a waterboy.
I smoke all the keef & watch an incestuous Lena Dunham.
I know that even birds grieve & JC Penney’s is bankrupt
& the earth is shirking us off like the runt chimps we are.
The ills of society bear down in the terrific swell
of Madison Beer & yet I am so satisfied racing you
across the gravel lot of a nowhere McDonald’s
when you give me a look like that.