If then if then if then, the heart of causation, ah, a devil moves
synesthetically in the brown wind. Somebody took my face
in their palm and I married them on sight, I who loves the if-then
heat of touch, oh I who loves the if-then heat of touch. I reached
a peak and the trumpet wailed, I swung with a stiff breeze and
a building collapsed. The cat scratched the side of a breeze, see
the world in a credit score change, if a lake then a breeze, if a chive
then a soup. The debt builds and a trumpet pirouettes. Somebody
touch me, the liverworts bloom. My whole life an anecdote, a
simple note, a third rack in the oven leveled. And how we level,
a man, a shelf, a city. If breath, then rubble. If bird, then no. A flock
of heaven in the cranes, the grammar’s broken leg. If conflict, then
talk. If talk, the liverworts divide. Then skunk cabbage, then what
will we do with all the lies we tell ourselves.