literate/mania.

i hope you'll excuse the punch..
disabled grayscale with windows,
shaping scraped in the castlings
and hero worship, so unutterable
with propositions and detection:

she is working on a building, an
hymn that can't be sung honestly
in the past as we now live it as
we all see the present as an im-
possibility, sometimes, laconic-

al and transparencied from their
weaving symbols and traceries in
the air above the flames, rising
indelicate & in flagrante delic-
to the aphasic murmurers' reeds;

counting and measuring with vel-
ocity like a physical organisat-
ion.. my blackened power, metals
by smittening me with most isra-
eli/montparnassian vivre, critic

overstanding wheel away closer &
spike me with a blade tempered &
sharpened with the fluttering on
the breath of that same fire-- a
dysphemistic synecdoche that set

my teeth on edge and my hair too
on fire, as if the woman were a-
ble to forgive and had bled, for
i find feeble the folded fingers
obvious in these failing frames.