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unnamed fun?
 
a red star
breaks windows
her hair enters my heart
colder than a turtle's tear ducts
slowly stone walls leak iron-rich water
why is the mouth i want stuck on your face?
the territories of our bones are between high shelves
thick books thin veins picture frames around poisoned livers
he guessed correctly the next line of the tv show, then shot himself
family reunions stuck on film like pressed butterflies, antennae crumbling
she stuck her head down my silver tuba and the concert stalled for a moment
concave floors tumble furniture onto my bent back under a dripping yellow chandelier
I built for myself a new cage in a wide field of low flowers to see freedom from a distance
he found that in the afterlife he could undress simply by dancing, dress by sitting still!
I threw the broken furniture off my body & crawled toward the phone, giggling sadly
I draw thin blueprints on my lover's pregnant stomach, & set fire to the slideshow
she withdrew herself from my silver tuba, leaving her off-key voice in my mouth
each shelf sagging like an arm holding a heavy, struggling animal by it's tail
whining cameras faceless clocks empty fishtanks smelling like frog eggs
her knees unbend and exit my memory, then kneel elsewhere
and why can't i be the only smell left in your nose?
the stone walls are replaced by sheetrock
hotter than an elephant's intestine
a blue star in the backyard
reassembles them.

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