ReRites (writing the facility of my limbs)

Then we breed in the old winter sweating in the sea the wind filling dusk with icy symbols small and loving reasons discover but never pretend a metallic cut ‘n paste aura packed with slush mimesis and indium-slime-liar glow-worm kill-water down obscura tunnel again, going closed for sentimental days So when everyone nears, the flow of her epoch, contour- bearing on the diesel-fuel-blue phone, she brings not older concoction gobbling twirls, a priest behind a rat in a strip of anticipation to advance thru your vessel. “Because where there is no word,” she said. “From the frame we rob a cost confiscated by all poems.” Oak shadow nest, an untouchable wound. I linger in my face, big and ruthless Universe, a covenant of paradise writing the facility of my limbs