Your Tusk and Bristles Brush Over Me

A stack of blocks and
A wall of bricks
Join genitals and generate
A floor of planks
Stairs link levels
Hanging down stairs
Tour across maps
Run programs to circle off tree limbs
A cartoon face blowing smoke
Steep green crows underground tunnels
I’m frosting my mind my, losting and nobody knows no one notice is’t it
I am throwing feces that never reach the wall
Around my skull the birds chase stars
That only they can see
And the stars follow orbits determined
By the movements of my eyes following
The whistle of the birds
We have grown accustomed
To the hum of circular saws
Cutting off other limbs
Creating other piles of bloody limbs
I am a pile of bloody limbs
I breathe out undeciphered scrolls and fog
Step up to the open box
Look in and take the light
The planes of your face collapse and bend
Do you know the feeling of thumbs pressed together?
This is the mindless force of life,
This, the churning walrus herd surge of mute life.

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