The Composition Scared Stiff (from Consequences)
in the stillest peach as a discourse of existence
laid bare upon its spit with flesh heavy
in marbled pain and fucking, then at least remember
to call after your date if you said you would.
I’m against making machines work as art,
the cognitive discord of things stomping
and whirling to the beat of ideas a reverberation
of history that shocks my hands as I try to break
it with a sledge. Consider taking turns
misrepresenting the details until we’ve found a new
route to contemporaneous expression; I’m so sick
of forcing down hand-fed grapes and telling you I love you
by saying exactly so — if I could smash apart
the genders of each apparati dancing from the mobile
of the heart I would, instead of mucking up the articulation.
If you find me balled up on the kitchen counter, it’s no reason
to evacuate an opinion of me that isn’t reverent —
it’s just that after all the considerations we’ve taken
into account for the future qua present, I’ve decided
I need to melt and reform a bit before
I’m ready to stand fully within your gaze.
Yup, still filling your dash with stuff from Consequences because I want to annoy you with my gratuitous self-promotion and make sure you download it. Sorrynotsorry…