[ w/ bright green large format dot grid & black ink ]
sweet turned the phrase an uneven page, so
uneven it rots. plant matter isn’t afraid of all
the ways we selve and salvage, what we
choose without a stable surface. the questions
pile beyond their own letter, the page purpling.
purple, the reminder.
lavender converts to an uneasy feeling, a fruit
the sun refuses to bloom. could choose to burn
the feeling, ash it out, scribble it down. the
unanswered bubble never bursts, just fills
with liquid and shrivels and refills.
purple, the remainder.
some beast in me exactly in bloom, whirring,
swiveling in no direction, breaking eye contact
with any real information. mother circuit board.
motherwire. nothing else to speak of, no one
speaking. if all the blood is encrypted
then none of it is. prepare to bleed in the
backyard for an unspecified amount of
time. everything falls out of itself. we pretend
to apply a formula. we pretend to have
the formula. the clots are purple, a lesson on
capacity.
How can I feel this poem’s purple leaves unfurling? Idk but I can!