Unbodying Grunts

She can’t remember all of you, just the hushed pricks turned water wrinkles for blue light homecomings, and yet, she’d drown again to brush you at the bottom. Close-ups in weighted histories and sermon sighs, she’ll be a host for the ground’s le prime; not merely an unreliable body in D minor—those left- hand finger keystrokes welcoming solemnity’s sounding—but the symphony gone muted-aloof,                                         tuned.

Basalt

I’ll read my insides with rotating vision and kinetic precision, translate the pain away like an embrace to death to rebirth in interlude, a gentle line thrust in suffering suspired, named.

Exteriors are such shameless interior terrors flesh flakes like farewells to visceral façades

Stings to bites to breaks to the incurable durable knocking bones into recession, remission, dead ends, can I live down the pillaging prongs?

To answer like a cut through basalt, ashes-to-skin-broken-to-bled, impressing the cold with millions of signs that refuse to fade.