18.7.13

crank operated love songs

you hate when I write
because back-to-front makes you ill
like the anenomes on 32nd street
or the smell of fulton market
I swallow  leftover bird-words
praising the patterns of lint
and the dancing hives you create
and the war-torn children you train
and the spines you twine
and tangle
and wrangle
I call you motherfucker
as a term of dear meat
the cease and desist hasn't stopped
you from collecting my hair
to braid back your sister
into contour line drawings
or tea leaves

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