Make a figure of frequency a figure living a social struggle
a man once who grew breasts you could see them especially
when agitated in water my toy bride in so public a gown
those aren’t arms they’re gestures that isn’t a draw- bridge
that’s my personality May I fit my arm through your arm,
so proprioceptively as when one plays some instru- ment
one opens a fan the creek drain while we turn away and creep now,
creep on all fours and illuminate Turn on the light turn on the light
her black paintings her zero-level memoir Oriole
says to Fox, no matter what you want to say about it,
we should ink up those titties In what sun do the neurons of the brain
bask their ripe produce as a function of having to be one plays
Flag go hang over action separated She was once a
once a once a in the aborescent fronds of sum- mer
in the instructions the orchard oriole sang of herself
life’s curvatures the cassettes in a coitus full of bursting
with face face of a human three women waist-deep in water
directing white cattle
