Element

    photo looking at a grove of bamboo, across the ground that is covered with fallen bamboo leaves, at a pathway partly obstructed by fallen bamboo

    invitation //

    Δ

    Screenshot slaps—
    To ring a sucker. You think
    Your appetite entitles you
    To moonstained blood?

    And you, and you, and all of you.
    Scrap mouths, yapping from
    Ass-ends of snakes.
    Shut it. Shut it. Shut yourself!

    Your little o’s and u’s and y’s
    Without wisdom—
    All bite, all bitches' bark—your traps,
    Fracked actuary lines.

    My splintered flotsam pierces
    Fiercer than your fangs.
    Your slit-tangled tongues,
    Your whore-hooked hounds,

    Your dog-groveling snack,
    The politician’s lie. Your island—
    Ground to grit, and sifted by
    My epicurean babble.

    I suck off
    One billion suns, you snatch
    Six bones from Ithaca—
    And don’t dare swallow.

    I am the throat, I am
    The eye. Black
    As red as wine, neither
    Skin nor flesh, as I

    Exhale his brutal
    Homecoming, I am
    Cauldron of slaughtered
    Maidens’ morning.

    His alibi, to coast right by you.
    As if the smiling tide
    That governed him—
    A king!—stoppered with wax.

    Just try—you cannot shut
    Your maggots fingering,
    Their heads, nailbeds, uncut, exposed.
    I am the shuttering.

    Shot-shallow loons, aswirl
    My spiral bowel, prowling
    Pack of orphan pups, your howling
    Hungers feed a woken Why

    My delta consumes,
    Your keystroke masturbates
    A corpse’s withered sty.
    Pregnant with his child,

    All men belong to me.
    My one
    Unconquerable O—
    Your place to die.

    //

    Echo

    Echo is opposite the word. He is
    Mornings and evenly draws rainstorms down
    From higher altitudes. Palm nectar slips the weather
    From misty lakes, my ashes, unspooling ghosts.

    But can you memorize the blues? Cintaku—
    A promise to be golden rings untrue.
    My skin is apple nude, my flesh a snowy hue.
    This guava is Antarctica for your bottomless thirst.

    //

    black and white photo of white incense smoke making sinuous and ghosty shapes across the lower third of the image, with blurry slatted woodwork in the background.

    lucid //

    Sideview

    (for Sylvia)

    Nylon-strapped into the backseat, the infant
    Of reckless parentage, jaw-broken logic

    Like antifreeze for mastery, injected
    Muscularity, a pink mouse curled inside a clenched

    Fist—We lost a sideview. It ricocheted, sent sparks
    Scattering plastic, wires fraying the blurry way.

    Ecstatic and encaged, I prayed to conjure
    From atrocity, your feral, foresty freedom.

    At screaming speed, twigs slashing my impossible—
    If I could drive a car, if that were conceivable—

    I would flood this weapon with atmospheres of Earth.
    I would beatify the shattered sea of glass.

    Acid fog dissolves the orange caul, cap-cradled
    By undulating power lines—of deathless exhaust.

    //

    🌕

    photo at the beach of black and white mixed sand washed up by the tide, in a layered rippled and feathered pattern, with the surf visible at the top of the image.

    feathering //

    Servant

    Tugging, the tusked equine,
    Weightier than I am,
    Was stamping and dragging
    Its hooves, stubborn as dirt.

    Fire married this mare, with
    My tiger’s fang, dripping,
    Driven as divine work—
    To crack the crocodile.

    If Earth would just hold still,
    I could stanza your bridle.
    Be mine—our lashes will
    Whip rows into the Jungle.

    Eyes rolling, muzzle defied
    Flea-bitten game—To bind
    Me, noble by a thread,
    Burning by landslide letter.

    Your father spotted stripes
    Rendered to mountain blades.
    He didn’t dare to breathe—a whispered
    Kris, my stalking shade.

    Desire, the conquered theme,
    Laid bare the ravined island—
    Servant by my reins,
    Red rivers spilling by mane and tail.

    //

    🌘

    screengrab of a map of Bali Island and East Java with an earthquake pinpointed off the coast near Banyuwangi, stats given for the earthquake include magnitude 5.5 on Richter Scale, 85 km away, 10 km depth, and states, Damage to poorly-made buildings.

    Frame-shaken . . . wow // (all ok)

    The Myna // Sang Jalak

    The Myna

    So here we are, in this
    Third World. Palm trees,
    Rice paddies, machetes.

    Doves couple on concrete walls.
    Seasalt breeze, like surface
    Fire . . . Sapphire, emerald.

    Sanctuary comes, commands
    Silence. Our mothers cut tongues
    To police. Masked,

    The myna bird speaks
    On the mulberry tree. Elsewhere,
    Ants against an elephant.

    //

    Sang Jalak

    Jadi disinilah kita,
    Di Dunia Ketiga ini. Pohon palem,
    Sawah, parang.

    Merpati bercinta di dinding beton.
    Angin laut asin, seperti permukaan
    Api . . . Safir, zamrud.

    Suaka datang, menuntut
    Keheningan. Ibu-ibu kita memotong
    Lidah ke polisi. Bertopeng—

    Jalak Bali berbicara,
    Di pohon murbei. Di tempat lain,
    Semut melawan gajah.

    //

    photo of the beach in shifting layers of color, deep brown speckled sand at the bottom with a few old leaves and pieces of coral, strewn with coral gravel, a layer of bronze-beige sand swept by the water, warm greenish to bluish haze of water reflecting light across a disappearing horizon, almost lavender possible rain in the far distance, thick patchy grey clouds over waning yellowish light.

    indissoluble ochre //

    military parade (no country for children)

    a block of human souls, murder
    of mirrors: organism heaves
    a moving multitude of cells,
    populous lung, as if to breathe.

    populous gun, snap-locks to form:
    fifty by fifty by fifty, we
    as one, on riven necks, heads turn.
    the mass of bodies march past Xi.

    in uniform, blind discipline:
    black boots, white arms, clean unison
    defines the face; grey, seamless film,
    a weapon’s youthful complexion.

    meanwhile, across Pacific waves,
    the people’s whore, instead of school,
    deploys machines to make selves, slaves;
    the suicidal human rule.

    chip factories to feed the stocks:
    by battery classroom, killing ground
    to grind the greening down, by glass
    addiction, into tyrant’s hound.

    the glaze that, dying, skins the eyes,
    steals vision from the animal;
    filters from birth its grave sunrise
    and petrifies the living soul.

    the glaze that, seeing, sells and tells;
    in masks, they empty out the homes.
    nobody ever goes inside;
    nobody ever is alone.

    meanwhile, across Atlantic storms,
    in cradle of brave humankind,
    the eye its fatal flaw confirms:
    the fracture of the human mind.

    dust-craven, shame of patriarchs
    forsook a sacred covenant;
    belched blood on gift of holy land;
    made blasphemy of government.

    what child is this? his ribs exposed;
    the second coming, came, disposed;
    the final coming, coming’s close;
    bodies of babes, unmade by drones.

    around the blue planet repeats
    this multiplicative device;
    our genocide is not abroad;
    the ovens crowd these hollow spaces.

    proving, mobilization awed
    gold-burnished by Byzantium;
    the heart speaks broken memory;
    this is no country for children.

    so genius passed: neither in form,
    nor in the scripted paedophage;
    bereaved, God’s mercy, nature-borne;
    a mother’s keening song, through rage.

    //

    🌔

    endives and mallows

    this morning, handsome as a child, touches 
    with warming fingers the amethyst mallow.

    delivers, gladly, each from darkening time:
    the businessman, lucid as professor;

    the tyrant, same as refugee, receives
    his quickening caress, the goldenlight of youth.

    but not each child. nor any child— the sun
    has blinded all with his apparition.

    a forest of light is teething in the seed,
    dog star, a diamond cleverly effaced.

    her baby will be different from the rest:
    impeccable smile, a garden’s wondering, walking train—

    daily untangling from the priest’s embrace;
    to carry off, intact, her very name.

    //

    splinterwha

    the resource re-
    considering

    skipping stones
    whistling

    in crevasses
    stellar, hollow (

    reckon starving
    metric Io

    reaches out ( g -
    lossy limb

    bittermallow
    idiot(es) wind

    whips ( w h i n i n g
    past mumbling

    nettles offset
    private alphabets

    boolean ( b r e a s t
    nipple, teething

    shooter —

    wounding ) strings,
    splintervolta

    tablet dissolves
    like ambien

    sound-guarded Kali
    graphic stems

    roots’ f r a c t a l
    externality

    inscribed iamb ( so
    so many

    times ) my ear
    sheltered, Delphi-like

    in serif lobe
    omega ( brooding,

    loaded ) blood suss-
    staining ends

    threaded, mute
    ( litters
            leaf

    ground ) grammar
    thick bundles,

    shorn bodies from
    brushes, hair-

    lines
            t um b l e w ee d
                                    to thrift

    the thistle, this
    still tick-ling

    or if sewn spider-
          silk knew, s o w i n g
        
               (    m    i    l    k    s    o    f    t
    the habit of

    ( public
    beauty )

    a mustard seed

    //

    a photo of bubbly, frothy seawater, translucent greenish turquoise rippling over brown and black and white pebbled beach.

    wishy-washy //

    breathtakes

    qoop (O the genius)

    a slick tongue slides around his marble curve.
    force never felt so powerless before,
    swept off your glacial nerve, flooding coastal
    cities; by pull, arousal virginal

    to witness one sun-surrendering bud
    of violet, untouched America. he hides
    in plainest word who dresses in flowers,
    lying in a meadow— the modest egg thief.

    mineralocean turns the ten tropics
    ragged, wed to the staggering moon— but if
    no yolk, she’s alabaster. jade at noon,
    obsidian midnight, gravity’s appetite

    dilates, lapis un-stone— a vowelbirths
    the polished shadow of ingenious nature.

    //

    🌒

    photo at the beach on a hazy day with pale blue sky and blue water, the black sand medium-grey mixed with taupe, and fiery bright orange and yellow jepun leaves strewn on the beach.

    poly-seasonal //

    earthquake

    it felt like grass, before it felt like stone.
    the other side of flame, igneous black
    or tattoos grappling for your diamond face.
    so i grew roots in water, he in bone.

    and what if i abstain from apples for
    a year, a tear, a deathtime. would he still be
    indifferent? or disappeared into
    his silverriver hair, my cloudy mountain.

    your wooly light tempted discovery,
    pulsating veins of mercury, the ground
    mantle unbound. it whispers— not a limb
    of you is immune to this hungering human.

    //

    🌓

    as if i were a whitefoot

    nameless, the gentle landscape chose
    pointlost, ungiven, brutishly
    endbringer to deadset hunger,
    rudeness riverrun to mercy.

    grim gravelshatterer, sparking flint
    to be action or scenery—
    object of disbelief, the ground
    to goat a hesitating hoof—

    or clamp too-trustingshank, object
    of appetite. salivaspills
    from ruthless gum of animal,
    rankcivil tooth of shackledmilk;

    but snarlingword, infant of dust
    absent a motherverse, is howl
    heartletting keen of lucid sacrifice.
    come drink from me, Al-Shanfarā—

    she desertlimns greydreaded; trim
    your distance, wolves. the veil of thirst
    is inhuman as ocean, burns
    your hornsgolden by bending sun.

    //

    (reply to Shanfara’s Lamiyyat al-Arab, trans. by Michael A. Sells in Desert Tracings.)

    photo of a somewhat abstract composition of architectural, geometric, and organic shadows, including the silhouette figure of a person, on a carved wooden interior wall, with a large pair of doors and a sharp peaked ceiling, cast by light of the recently-risen sun.

    early morning //

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