RESOLVING HOST

by robert balun

 

 

 

earn to survive

the everyday

conveyer of meat

 

there’s weather today

but it’s gotten in static

 

in the anxious and suspicious

commute

 

the predatory territory

 

of my

time

mined

 

here I am with everyone

 

in the dream bought with borrow
 

my teeth

slowly

 

chipping

away

 

there is always

someone else

to blame

for the restless sleep

 

I remember talking

but not

a word

of what I

said

 

I was a part of that

city

 

but I forget

 

the way rain

dissolves

 

light into color

 

passing

beside

the insectine

power

station

 

past

 

the newest

news

 

the point is to erase you

 

*

 

I listen to my neighbor talk on their phone

 

looping our

one-sided

 

forgetting

 

the prayer of wind on long grasses

 

the driftwood trees

marooned to the shore of the salt marsh

like the jawbones of ancient

megafauna

 

still

wildflowers surviving

 

the landscaped beneath

 

two men presiding

over them

like a service or a deployment

 

 

my chair covered in birds

 

the collapsing weather

 

rushes through the window

 

and everything’s been all rippled since

 

*

 

pockets full of static

 

the no-titled walk through

the airy lightness of everything polished

and told like a story

 

the aftermath of naming

 

a mouth blooming

feathery plumed tongued practice

 

I eat my convenience

my rotten tooth

child of the firmament

 

my cursed bread

 

my need to cash the check to catch the train back

 

my dispatches from the maze of refracted days and wages

 

the street where I buy an echo

 

the breath of any drug to feel normal

 

the sound of trying to get

 

closer to

an advertisement for a mountain

 

the opposite of where I am

 

that doom in your head

 

and the smell of money

 

*

 

I plant flowers in the bed

wait for them to grow towards the meridian

 

a prayer to remember

 

the body made of earth

the body made of sun

 

each an identity of light

 

the sigils accreted in the spine

 

a map of the ways you crack against the history of static

 

*

 

gathered again

into the multibody’s

expanse of unfolding

information

 

all day

 

the spiral morphology

 

backs bent to hold the hungry center

 

wrapped up in

the white noise

organism

 

preaching its

favored symmetry

 

in the pulp of time’s expanse

 

 

when that was you

 

when that was me

 

in the midst of this

 

a name

there and then not

 

reclaimed by the clamor

 

my pockets stuffed with incense and pine