FOOD I CORP PUBLISHING ENTERPRISE

1

Soon they will wake.

We wait

joined in a sentence

ghosted by our proximity—

Writer to Reader,

I’ve unread everything

written in the mouth

of a cannibal syntax

bloated with meaning.

There is a hidden architecture beneath us

reaching beneath the white veil of this page

here, in the penumbra

where finally, from some imagined source, a light breaks the page.

The light is like a wing and the wing is God

and you—

feather breather and beaming

are the sum of yourself in a dream.

Give me your hand

there should be something to touch between us

more than this ink

the ink where we merge

into the sound your mind makes while you read,

Keep reading.

Soon they will wake

floret and sun-hued

both.

more color than human

more real

than us

or me

writing while they dream

their bodies into men.

Limb for limb—

the dying brightness

dissolving our presence on the page

in this system of silence

a grid of tenses between each line

A parallel semantics.

You are at the intersect of this new conductor

at point where this text diffuses and elongates.

I canvas your tongue and spill.

In the former life, we all believed
In the corporation. Its destiny
To stand, the institution
That represented us.

We gave ourselves away.

Sometimes, a beacon of hope
Is a betrayal. The past must find
Ways outside of itself
To live on. The tomes
Have been written and archived.

That is not enough.

An eye tumbles along behind us.
A weed in the desert.

there’s stacks of mail
                   fetched some of them
                                                                                              bare-assed like a roll neglected
(a) clean leaf of paper unscratched by
road
                           directions

                            &&&

exhaustive

                                                                           lists of boxing results

order not particularly heavy nor

                                                               important to order
play this week

next week
                  no worries

of financed and secured                           keep it fragile for the en-mass

ties neckties will do all the brawn

time to be had time for toil /to be done/ cleaning

at comfy speeds

the belts

leather belts

rolled up sleeves

attend to difficult affairs as soon as the sun has been

                               soaked & shot

only lines strong lines couples

                                              willing to share

spotlight as

                                   much fear of

knit quarters on bedecked cruise line decks

not a

milestone but make out sessions are and say the cakes yes

lining counter after counter
                                                                  carefully sculpted
frosting as

German cats
                                                                                        Norwegian boat houses
Bolivian gazebos

                        sustained & flavor filled
                        so munch

curtain androgyny
kick the cat out to the lawn
floating bees in a bird bath
a way of cooling out
say, chill and relax is like
Antarctica without the vowel
on the end o’
its tail
fallow stream write
rush rush
fall over factory
spill out widget board
border patrol past gloom
oh, boom, boom
way of showing the wax
ing moon like forgetful
ninja corps
slowly the ice
it’s a floating hindrance
scorch classical darts
see through the boredom
it’s a thing to take any
one
thing
for granted
clerical duty
report after you
see the fax
come through

Raven: Give him a mission while he’s here.
December: It’s hard to know his background.
Raven: Is he in motion?
December: It’s hard to know his strengths.
Raven: What’s his profile?
December: I only know his name.
Raven: He’s probably in motion.

December: Do you have pines to spare?
Oklahoma: I have no pines.
December: Do you have words to sing?
Raven: Can you rephrase that question?
December: Do you have any change to spare.
Raven: Do you have any plans to change?
Raven: Where were you during the railroad strike of 1922?

Oklahoma: And they said to me:
Raven: Or is that just the glow from Montpelier?
Oklahoma: “Sail, sail boat, return to your state.”
Raven: Do you see the red ones and green ones?
Oklahoma: In the north too far from home.
Raven: It’s better to resist saying your name.
Oklahoma: In the forests too close to the storm.

Raven: What exactly is your purpose.
Oklahoma: Never a purpose without a consent.
Raven: What precisely do you want.
December: There are mittens on your cheek.
Oklahoma: Catch an early triangle back.
December: It’s been a different stereo without you.
Oklahoma: It’s been a different blue.