if we read to them they would read to us.

the abandoned semi-psychos 

in all those movies are looking 

in a rage of fear and compulsion that i understand.  

one might damage another one to death, i see.

now that people ingest organ-melting drugs in order to unlatch.

this girl's parent, for one,

while she says with her free hand, "THE DOG'S GOT MY FACE, MOM!"

to reach out and slap the too loving or push the too serious in the dung

which forces us to laugh to keep from puking.

are you on vacation from all your jobs?

run off.

leave the group.

snatch out of hand.

crawl under the table.

i say

music crawls in and stays though i don't know it.
friends describing their health overshadowed by years old sobs
remember that time i moved in you?
i do.   remember the holy dark?
i giggled.  i dreamed.
but that was accidental and i came back
to talking with an uninvited pain.
when i get home, i'll know, i said.
i know.  reverse my know and drive me in the windy ocean.
i've never sunk and won't.
so long as.

WRONG WAY

let me write letters down through
the one gut i actually own
and take back out of your hands
carvings and bring together
your cut edges by gliding through time backwards.
let me explode in a collision with a memory
that i have wrong
where i disintegrate.

I CAN'T STAND NOT SHOOTING

no plovers in here keep those out.
it's not alright to pick one star and
let it rip your eyes out over the fact that yea,
you're warm enough to have a complex nervous system.
no giant-headed underwater things.
no things with brown eyes in the front of their head.
no raccoons with their creepy paws saying hi.
turn me into oxygen so slowly that water fails to ripple.
it is science, all the things i say because of
terror at the plunge above which i hover,
unable to touch someone next to me who is
closer to standing on the cliff and not off it.
where are the plovers, i would still like to know.
keep them away from me forever,
but where are they.