titanium river



into dead air this throughput titanium river we feed this

is necessary. Sew the nails into the earth

all our wheel

barrows overturned and spray-painted under the swell of her belly

from the soil, come hornet, no longer metaphor, its strakes cut

the collapsed space of burnt air—the lanyard of ID


unguided noose the nails we planted grow

a feast of thumbs up-sprouting-imbeciles—each growling unseen

sidewinder contact seeks a source of heat

like a snake we throughput from mouth to vent-tailpipe, we leap from the rail

we spiral perfect-out from the carapace security of ammonite shells

a contiguous contrail—exhaust plume

a stolen plum that leaks from each of our distant smiles.


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