I said I’m proud of you , he said the same
I said what’s that missing from , what’s that hail
and will I wake from these visions of defection to change them
in time to change them ? to puncture that kind
of gun wave gun lean gun warning crisis call
that eschatological hemorrhage from the image factory
is time ill , curable ? can justin timberlake still distract from the
war ? what’s pride in the states ? no kids and people say good
—but I was so hurt by the idea . between the day end and the destitute—
running over the bridge to get sun , bread
it’s a miracle of material so I can explain it—there’s no
antisocial destination , jerking and scratching
the uprising actually exceeds reason—it transforms meaning
this orange burst in the air—the floodlights pulled down to the street
we can’t just tap our veins for content when we haven’t eaten what’s needed—I fell out on the white sheet
of the bed and depressed a hole in the world , brought back with ice and honey—I tried
to reassociate—the burning precinct more than
pleased me—pleased to enter my life from inside it
and ask what’s the real horizon—but
when he heard that, he lost patience . lost it
that’s how it looked from across the room , where I live
so we have to look superheroism in the face and peel it off
not get shaved to pieces by fishbone , fishscale of propaganda
in the black night , it’s nasal , aluminum , fucks your DNA up
makes the image wet with plasma and weeping