raw bone scrapes / wires through bared

soles of feet & tin-can telephone voice

to braindead hours like windowdraught.

there are killing words of pure hypnotism,

too, as though a contrary fact cld alter

the physics of it. they whisper constantly.

loose threads braiding a most exquisite

corpse / owlhead, circuitry, hooked claw.

that self struggles to overcome self, or

world is a poem that alters world, isn’t

the sexed equivalence of a doppelgänger’s

stare. it holds a mirror between its horns.

knowledge flows carnally from the mind

entangled in images / of love or war.

there’s no natural law but only things &

unthings forged by rigid classification.

in the black cave where a telephone has

never ceased ringing, in the pit of a

stomach where time crouches listening,

you are forever the estranged counterpart.