3.19
would I consult the dark
in the form of …
off the tips of my fingers
in the soil excavating …
the cavern, cavity
phoneme tongue / fertilizer sunsets
profuse down tone sounding out
moldy wall crumbled, soiling
I’m
… come out into
waves where anger focused
against,
enveloping in finance
circuit
our faces commune in
dark other silent rooms
plot on screen
dream splits open
a bourgeois flesh
at the edge of bleeding
stitched close
3.19
anxiety threads first
the
blue dark
my room enveloped
blue depth.
the
second part
is immiseration
the
third part
is recognizing the
enemies
of all beings
and the wish to see
in the blue light imbued
a collective moon
a little glint
3.21
slept interior
lonely blue-green
the trace leaves me
concrete world
watch of hands
virus
its distance and
nightmare
not coercion
in the purple field
trusting
in others
my bleak garment
wrapped
words that tune
this ocean
a layer
of warm
3.22
have selves submerge in blue
plangent rising form as song
where starts
temper torpor, my translucent
failure,
concrete attention
in the eve of waves
know a form despair
know what it is to chase
up slender stair
decay
material
wealth shadow
sound in attention to
thin half-light, ears plugged
an ocean
black-purple inscription
allege spring night trails
behind me river
streams intent
anti human stockpile
think themselves survival
fond for themselves
a leaving for an eye
a leaf a boll
substance me, tongue
pool of my
hearing
plugged into
twilight’s off-
pitch
Geoffrey Olsen is a poet and cat guardian living in
Brooklyn, NY. He is the author of the chapbooks End Notebook and Not
of Distends : Address Panicked. Recent poems are published in Prelude
Mag, Entropy and Vestiges. He has chapbooks forthcoming from
These Signals and above/ground press.
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