produced by this
urban stampede
the basmati
is a thriving
literalness
and unkillable infants
tiny vagrants
stiffened in
blast
with no name
& place
preserve it
crimped-baked
i’m not a piece of shit
I’m a piece of
society and
objects
create
a negativity so negative
it will never be
exhausted by the
feeble sketches or
piloted extinctions
of
the homogeneous moment,
this reprimand
with lease down go
in our
debt is mind-dependent
a tungsten ring is forever
when
powdered milk or
long-life psychopomp
commands the safe
ecstatic visor by gift
speculum
in media res
