remaster, I got big sign I amble off
face lit as skin of someone bathing.
young frayed hoods smell saltier.
police refuse the fear stairs, one gropes a breast
under a sports bra. historical pic! crowd
shoots all then closes behind, laptop.
you sexy thang. anticrow anticrow
anticrows and swoops
the street, imperfectable, police seem
to have insatiable sexual
appetites, skyscraper bends over itself, as if to bow
or readjust, then lighthouse
a tangerine rolling out of a tent
is a real tangerine and people are
intemperate, out of air current hot breath and other waves
of Being, wherein each calls for the other,
gives a sign. where are we to put
the limit between the body and the world,
since the world is flesh?
birds cry! lovers die!
hermit can’t eat the plastic
the sports bra snaps back
of great design
vet of bones all his brothers dead inside him stops to pose
with the lean of a milkman, smiles his truths of 1945.
the policeman’s hand is gone
the best messages are mutual and free from all ambition, like a wishbone.
hermit crossed the pond can’t eat the plastic
Steve Jobs we’re sorry you died
images feel good taken into the human palm
how to back into our new instruments
how light November rain