archelyxs

playing my emphases like harp strings your voice smokes thru the oaken bramble pour a carbonated apology, a sun-stained mile marked envelope, two ill-fitted birds, hands small holes right before a rush of river what it feels like being swallowed from the outside crushing rings into truth serum, pretend to be out of tune with that deception I have been unable to parse my own persona a pink cotton voice I remember thru the phone I remember because it formed me into a granary one crop after another of patriarchal idioms whisper my secrets so softly into a glint of red hair a saucer-eyed lace pattern cut into pine paper I practice radical self lo

you have been a handful of little connections to me / growing in diagrammatic blooms, giving off breaths & linear ribbons you have been a convex figure, parallel & pointing a complex arrangement of threadlike roses to express this requires terminology familiar only to those who have studied the impossible a heart light at the narrow / a center longer than long

i'm handful of sober eyes i'm sliver of curve i'm clingy silver i'm little enveloping aggression i'm tenderness doubled i'm column of bitter lips i'm accidental orange tree i'm parallel to anodyne i'm ablative of fingertips i'm swirl of hollow mouths i'm throw to the first space i'm crushed cosmic chaos i'm rouge page turner i'm effective butterfly i'm faded obscurity i'm electropop Antigone i'm slick of apple butter i'm tremble of maternal salt i'm river hostage i'm Wednesday mass of the unipolar i'm triggered religion i'm beckoning lace of spinal fluid i'm puff of misted oak i'm heart-held engagement i'm a fade letting go i'm more ancient

Out all day carving windows into the sun to see the sky fill with newborns making labile signatures. Another fleet of events & causes and you lose your neck in the coming together of psychics & almanacs. For you alone, a sculptress tills the surface of the oceanic and to you alone, the abyss comes forth in colors, in flowers, like daughters having been given astronomical names. Here, a quiet of nitrogen diffuses pacific laughter over brick houses that should have been glimmers in the mist kicked up by our revolutions, but navigating your skin was such a pleasurable divination.

but I believe to seek unbecoming is more cultivated than stretching out the leaky fibers of a semi- circular self-image until they spiral into uncontrollable forests, cauterizing eyelids; yes, unbecoming, like picking bones out of a salmon's chest.

falling asleep with the windows open, with morning curling around you like a drop of blue ink in a glass of water, turquoise and unwritten; remembering when early dawn was a secret you kept in a soft, aortic pocket— your dead lighter spinning to the floor of Lake Ontario, a halo of its bygone, synergetic flame.

Spring's splattering blood orange dust on branches fallen into place and when I scratch my skin open, it's because I want to see it bloom, red and icosahedral. Our mosaical tome of shifting tenses questions the swift years dwelling behind my teeth. I offered you handfuls of pink diamonds with green dirt caught under my nails and I expected you to tear my throat out of my neck, but I can't come with the sound of the sea rushing through the architecture, your body keeping house for all your slender ghosts. Here we're so electrified and warm, the air pressure inside our lungs so low that we could drown in breath but I would rather be s