Distillation a matter
of feeling *against
one’s self* to make a
mark don’t connect
the dots stars didn’t
make us we made them
when we read their
pretensions of wisdom
a kind of seduction
the phatic validates
the rest is rent and
money for gas so sings
complicity always the
place the emotion
of being among so many
makes one get over
themself the things
we are not for their own
sake this room large
and ever ambivalent
I was with her deixis
a tale of survival
the survival of her
milk is memory wood
darkening that shade
no longer human with
witness you begin to
cry something will eat
the cancer that idea
must not get cut-out
you are here I don’t want
to be anything if
it takes that much
loss to be I don’t want
to have to participate
with a voice
the cracks public
makes in social space
filled by greedy
imperative spreads
cancer to what we
would otherwise
communicate be with
me make a sign to
change their signs
true leveler *an in
equality* information
like a corpse went
forth dragging its
body in the aether
where to put the
body Modernity while
we were gone value
labored *Bodies: can’t
live with them, can’t
live without them*
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