<\/p>\n
I\u2014the speaker<\/p>\n
you\u2014innumerable yous<\/p>\n
a Mother (deceased)<\/p>\n
Mable\u2014who\u2019s the she<\/p>\n
Stead\u2014who\u2019s the father<\/p>\n
Hank\u2014who\u2019s the brother<\/p>\n
Q who\u2014who\u2019s the uncle<\/p>\n
Mia\u2014who\u2019s the aunt (deceased)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And Mable when I say<\/p>\n
comes from money I mean<\/p>\n
comes from more money than me.<\/p>\n
The doves see through Henri and know<\/p>\n
his chompers were a ganga of battered<\/p>\n
birches, stunted birches<\/p>\n
the earth searches its muscle memory<\/p>\n
for the sameness of frankincense and then dances.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We flame drench whosoever slept the sea<\/p>\n
is how we spoke alike,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
spoke of light spruces. Now sluice down<\/p>\n
the nooses because lurk is by a window of medicine<\/p>\n
or the end of this line, nightingales<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
in decline amidst a thicket. Let\u2019s sing the sameness<\/p>\n
of Mable.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I mean unstable<\/p>\n
ingrate equals intellect and this too is myopic, hogshit, I wish<\/p>\n
the internet was a book that couldn\u2019t get\u2014<\/p>\n
anyway, what cured my<\/p>\n
rickets is the gull light in eucalyptus<\/p>\n
and the movies last Christmas. I miss this<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
crust of snow, a jumble of slow<\/p>\n
hiccups. Our mothers lied to us<\/p>\n
about the sound of sand and what happens<\/p>\n
to sweet tea after its marrying.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Now it was always too dark out for the dead people<\/p>\n
in Q\u2019s El Camino. They misunderstood<\/p>\n
sainthood, racket of redwood,<\/p>\n
be a scattergood through our house. It\u2019s 4 a.m., and the<\/p>\n
molecules of dawn have gone shameless.<\/p>\n
Boundless bundles of crazy aimless.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
What this biopic needs<\/p>\n
is new knees, glass dad, and ache of marriage, trach of marriage, cold blood, the violins in\u2014<\/p>\n
Well you know about Mia\u2019s cracked teacup<\/p>\n
when spring screams torrents at me meaning Mable<\/p>\n
waits to shoot up<\/p>\n
the weather with my money, who is happy and few sharp teeth, who is nothing<\/p>\n
the glow stops and don\u2019t know<\/p>\n
about chompers, spokes of somber swept-through-body<\/p>\n
likes-to-yell-at-kids. Cement when the moss invents again<\/p>\n
is where we flame drench the world of flesh<\/p>\n
and lurk is by a window softer than haunted heaven where mentholyptus<\/p>\n
remains resplendent. Forever I hate when my house shakes<\/p>\n
because the other white matter<\/p>\n
is what matters when it comes to most glaciers, not the snow in her throat. She\u2019s under the table,<\/p>\n
I mean Mable,<\/p>\n
now see-what-laughter, the shins is my daughter or sameness<\/p>\n
of timber. There\u2019s something\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad\u00ad the matter with brother.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This ain\u2019t no pillow<\/p>\n
disco<\/p>\n
volcano<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
woe or sonorous desert<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
where I ate my insatiable<\/p>\n
amidst a thicket<\/p>\n
of stunted birches, battered birches,<\/p>\n
every invisible word<\/p>\n
for red birth, bog birth<\/p>\n
the stunted earth. Your author begot naught<\/p>\n
after Stead was layers of water, the nave built, everyone\u2019s dad<\/p>\n
is older than dirt. Naturally, I provoke men with questions again<\/p>\n
in the days of defective echolocation, our cumbersome shuffle<\/p>\n
which is all the work<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
your legs love. We are total flesh<\/p>\n
see hailstone or Bechdel test.<\/p>\n
Now our Mable who art in mountains,<\/p>\n
shiver rifts thy sky<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
while I aid and abet impressive<\/p>\n
pheasants, all the alpine adolescents<\/p>\n
with crepuscular eucalyptus<\/p>\n
in their endless, meaningless, grass tusks of bride sweet,<\/p>\n
that broke fucking. Unfolding wasp<\/p>\n
-swung, star<\/p>\n
-strung,<\/p>\n
shrank the village to the bed we in<\/p>\n
when rain begins.<\/p>\n
Struggles a streetlight,<\/p>\n
the wind against groaning.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Meanwhile our heartbeats shook the dead<\/p>\n
of flame-drenched and older than<\/p>\n
sameness, gardens upon gardens of night-dress.<\/p>\n
Nevertheless, an hourglass and invisible death<\/p>\n
left Mable\u2019s throat a sugarcoat,<\/p>\n
the moral lass<\/p>\n
by hive then once cried when the<\/p>\n
glow stopped, all the gravel-pile snow-sopped<\/p>\n
mountains of memory, the middle class.<\/p>\n
What we have here is a money problem,<\/p>\n
our gold-spangled chompers at dawn<\/p>\n
are gone, the migraine dark,<\/p>\n
and the right word for woods is where when you need it?<\/p>\n
Oh forest florists, forest floor it\u2019s<\/p>\n
only good for collecting water. I miss my mother<\/p>\n
and that\u2019s the matter with me and the hammer of featherhood,<\/p>\n
fathered in soot. The dog dies although I sometimes walk her,<\/p>\n
and Mable\u2019s mouth remains marble-heavy and authored.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Because you were drunk and the dog was crying,<\/p>\n
it was naturally night getting overly astonished again<\/p>\n
as the Noh falls so-so ago, although<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
blue petals splinter an ingrown bone, we rose them alone, rows them all home.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s what\u2019s the matter with me and our other mother and father<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
according to whom, feathered in soot,<\/p>\n
suits bloodstone, see helio, and woe<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
to those who froze feathers,<\/p>\n
bundled and left-my-breasts-relentless.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Or rustless.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Or restless.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Or rent-less, as if<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
my authentic thighs dement this sky<\/p>\n
-writing until cauterized with cumbersome letters.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Below bellweather, my dear\u2019s in the dirt, drizz boys reverse<\/p>\n
chambers. Thou art aching in stranger, unshuckable<\/p>\n
spokes of light. Much get sleep didn\u2019t I last night.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Sally Rodgers is a sudden rush (out<\/em>) from a besieged place upon the enemy; a sortie; esp. in the phrase to make a sally<\/strong>; Sally Rodgers is the first movement of a bell when \u2018set\u2019 for ringing; a \u2018handstroke,\u2019 as distinguished from the reverse movement of \u2018backstroke;\u2019 also, the position of a bell when it is rung up to; Sally Rodgers is a corruption of sal enixum; she is one of several eucalyptus or acacias, she resembles willows in habit or appearance; Sally is to leap, bound, dance; she is of a warlike force: to issue suddenly from a place of defense or retreat in order to make an attack; Sally Rodgers is to bring (a bell) to the position of \u2018sally.\u2019 Sally Rodgers is both a noun and a verb.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" [Incomplete Cast of Characters] I\u2014the speaker you\u2014innumerable yous a Mother (deceased) Mable\u2014who\u2019s the she Stead\u2014who\u2019s the father Hank\u2014who\u2019s the brother Q who\u2014who\u2019s the uncle Mia\u2014who\u2019s the aunt (deceased) [And Mable when I say] And Mable when I say comes from money I mean comes from more money than me. The […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,4,2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4688","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-poetry","category-things"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4688","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4688"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4688\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4688"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4688"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4688"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}