#spiroscope

[p7xic52ogz]

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[alwaysalreadyangry]

Little

what rises / if i was a son i’d want to be second

nil by hand-to-hand / a sore mouth

that’s what all the men did / bony knees

at night a small brush is that a knife

before they drained out of blood & money a dulcimer and crooked notes, time stops for a tuned string and did elizabeth dye her hair

with her own piss? who plays their game

second sons don’t know death

three white eyelashes hidden on a pillow

i will not pretend to be clever enough for you

smooth legs until we ran out of wax strips a burnt finger pushed under my tongue

i don’t owe you a rhyme / when they said

you’re not like the other girls

if the second son doesn’t die in swaddling not to bite his own mouth

in yards the spiroscope / just joking you are the second son to live

boys play with their knives

a pain in my chest when i breathe down to my lungs / cold water a gasp

curled over my tongue, a little bit of sky

cerise mouths / if we wanted what you have is it god’s words or money you copy

coughs once you hit the key change

i do not know if my heart is red

and forty years in / just straw and the red

the grey sets in from the deepest point a bedpan / there is not enough inside us

no woman is, in herself, enough

the nettle soup / rust in the root if you look for a curse

a spell in the misspellings

the first son who dies before his father watches your films about witches

a chest without a lock

second daughter in dirty shoes

when the first son dies the second son becomes him a son is the nicest bedroom

a spilled pot / the cabbage was too blue to taste naturally

a natural curl to the lips, hair

second sons are not down to pack mud over blunted sticks

an ulcer between my mouth and teeth

your fingers too dull to pull into a plait in the dark afternoons, without a candle

i am glad that i couldn’t read

what you had written / all of the smoke

one of the hems a rotten

it is not that hard to spell a name so that you can understand what it means

a cold marsh spread across dawn

keep using the name until one of them sticks

the hush over boiled potatoes a slip with the knife down one raw that was not meant to split

if we played the game with the cup-and-ball /

let me start i will be

the cauliflower buds under my skin / the ditch / rain

my heart rate too high to let me hold my breath underneath

pull your hair into fishtails

a different accent after all of that

the way my laugh could never curdle cut in two no gaps between —

i will not be any son

[weirdly-wired]

Learnin’ About Weather Stuff:

It's a given,....as everybody knows, when a skycloud slips off of its' designated skyslelf, and silently crashes to the surface of ground stuff, all ground stuff gets wetted. No actual wet skydrops can be seen without the use of a spiroscope.  Visibility quickly becomes a double eyeball strain, and can result inna car crash even. We call that fallen skycloud, a "Fog-Cloud." Now, when a fog-cloud partially droops off the edge of a skyshelf and doesn't fall off, gravity forces that potential fog-cloud to allow cloudwater to seep through the actual lower cloudskins, resulting in "Raindrizzle." You don't hear much about raindrizzle amounts by any weather people, 'cause it takes forever to measure raindrizzle depth over a long period of time. We have yet to configure just how many individual units of raindrizzles constitutes a single skywater raindrop. Maybe someday, *sigh*

Irritainment