In the centre of the circle is a woman laying sentences
into loose pieces. Air caught inside a balloon
A moist glint on the lip & somepart anatomy
formed in a knot. I see now it’s not a balloon but one mouth moving both ways
Head back, tilted, honestly everyone loves a secret
teeth fashioned from the tea stained pot
Outside the prefab building it is another season &
different friends. We each bring with us a weather to practice
Pass the arbitrary threshold & into the limitless manipulation of
an online articleI read Why do trans people love synthesisers?
on my phone & nauseous in the back of a taxi. Nasal glands candied
in Little Tree New Car Scent. As a distraction I invent a new weather
Honestly, I know more poets than electronic musicians but that’s my secret &
this body isn’t the one I told you about, sorry I mean balloon
I turn to leave & stop myself. I turn to stop & leave myself,
I turn to myself & stop
texted to say this isn’t working. miraculous and surprising
he replied! Have you turned it off and on again?
Where does your pleasure live? Mines mostly in the kitchen &
when you say my appetite, what exactly do you mean?
Last night I dream of Little Tree forest — flat &
primary pines saturate in New Car /City Style/ Wild Cherry
/Leather I want my body to be
so three-dimensional real in the forest &
not to talk about myself, but I dropped
the balloon for a gale-force wind
I am gale force in the forest
out of my mind/body/soul on intention
to remind myself that intention can’t be consumed &
I call you because I can’t stop myself
Why can’t I stop myself?