Stanley, McCreary, Robinson
Small Press Traffic
December 1, 2013
Geomantic particularities.
I'm pretty sure I'm a sorcerer.
You leaves get covetous.
Lamps of pure capture.
October is full of Libras.
Some people have old names but don't live very long.
Obstinate shimmering recondite.
Talking is basically the definition of skin.
Some poems are only instructions.
We'll all have tender feet in the new world.
They promised to make me smarter.
I move often toward a dream.
Any type of shirt with one button buttoned.
***
No one wants the embarrassment of absolution.
The worrying power of effigies.
I've got your Stockholm Syndrome right here.
Because I know how the roundabout works.
I don't think of a white bear so hard.
An entire summer spent speaking in code.
An eye swapped with the language of water.
Someone should tell the bees.
Like wet puppy & dirty pennies.
There is no really intimacy without remorse, but also there is gratitude.
I incite the etymology of mayhem.
Open your hand to show you held no weapon.
That's not an ice cream truck that's church bells.
Comfort isn't always comfortable.
We changed the story we solved the problem.
And now my feet are maps.
Waiting for anything is its own kind of fever.
The way moths fly, like they're broken.
***
Didn't monster imply narrative.
To be suspicious is to be suspicion.
To face into it [the unverifiable]
Breaking through its skin with our skin.
As if to evade all our futures with his present tense.
The evidence wasn't able to modify itself with a pronoun.
Rage is always past tense.
Variably audible to memory.
Theft has it own taxonomical condition.
Dirty teleology.
