here comes the sound of the sun, wilting. i just remembered wishing, i just remembered spare parts. & then my mouth closing tighter than ever before. i said nothing. & then, accidental leaves. & then, accidental house-space. this is the house, this is me wishing for elsewhere.
*
i mean the breath of a full chest is almost like the park you can run through it you can play outside you can sweat until you fall down & stop breathing then your chest is empty then the park is empty.
*
these are the colors i would like to see invented: cutting down animals; empty silhouette; invisible child; wet room.
*
the field has
memory loss the
field has apoplexy
the field has organs
to begin with & so
it can be blamed for
sensitivity or
accused of striking down
a woman
*
one time i invented the field i called it an empty silhouette i traced its lines & colored outside them i threw the field away. goodbye, field. goodbye small organ space i never fully acknowledged, anyway.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TYEh7Ril2ji2OpvQ8URea3-4O7YhJyvS6dju6xo6FWw0GVIjl9BK3J_DjZjZeld3QyRzR3GU2b2VQf5zzACUZqtJhCw1V7-NQykdzP86isS4dYm4d1AOLzRkeu0Eo4K9T5p2/s320/IMG_20150617_181839.jpg)
Her chapbook SOMEWHERE THE / SHAKING was released last week by above/ground press.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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