600 meters to fire hydrant, if it doesn’t add up,
speak with governed throat. who owns your eyes?
eyes stare a parking lot
scribbled on the concrete, save the trees.
i guess the cars mean they didn’t.
who owns your hands?
walk this way. have a break, have pure
brandy. learn to walk with bottle feet.
you won’t slip if you just sit the fuck
down. who owns your feet?
boy sitting at the bus stop looks at
me and says. nothing
today the clouds look like they are leaving
back to sea. but then i saw her mouth
she owns my eyes now and all of their
on seeing, the ground did not immediately
on seeing, it remained still and green
the sky remained ribbed and
on seeing, the sky was so
blue with the
of your your back
on seeing, boy you
stretch hands like
you once did on
you walk with weapons
on seeing, this does not
matter , to walk to
which lingered where they
on seeing, everything is still
on seeing, you walk
away from me,
and i sit, with the place where
it happened , wishing
just simply, walk away
on seeing, i am the calm
of a body , invaded.
…one day pinocchio \asks me\?
where he came from
so I gave him a \\knife\\
\\wood glue\\ and
((I TOLD HIM TO FIGURE IT OUT FOR HIMSELF))
the priests make \too many; mistakes
but perhaps it is simply
((CRUEL))to talk of – genisis – \as if it was\
as if god did not
CUT THE SKY out of his eyes
the sea OUT OF HIS THROAT
as if light \\WASN’T\\BLOOD!
as if he wasn’t just afraid of the empty…
…so it was that pinocchio begun to
;grow yew trees
;chop and prepare them for the wood glue
;attach them to empty spots
\\for the days\\that pinocchio
had hacked too much away