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Memento Mori
O
bright confines
—
Like the heard words in the sounds—
every place we are
is one we’ll
aren’t.
Elaboratably.
So, over-and-over.
So arterialy.
(Re-occasion’s slow abrade.)
As
in—these rawing err-ways breach bloud mash-barrel reds.
Trace.
Afrer-scapes.
As
in—this dimming makes meaning make
more sense
on the inhale.
Like dusk in the olde adjectives,
these plush, rushed _-teriors
(courses sorted,
under-messed).
Words
unchanging long and long
—lust’s mince gears.
(Stripped.)
Nightish musclings—
wine-deep.
But speeded.
Hands skim-wilde
on the gathering side
as mingle
as outdulge
where lies kindly
distract
from the sick-spoon
from the lunks’ jungs
& our skin (spikeless
twinlipspink)––
their throughency
cramming bare whereabouts
(the oceanwork dark)
w/ howabouts
as if diminish
meant
(should mean)
when the white halts loft
to steeps
to
break
(as vanish, unespecially)
the jetties’ black angles into sand.
for Katherine Larson
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