St Oyl!
he is st oyl!
of the well-machined
of the well-lubed
of those lankyass
lads loosed
on boulders
with pinecones
bested by small
pineneedles
the needles!
they have been
trampled over
by his loosed limbs
needles having
their own needles
succulents lining
edges of other
succulents from the
paleozoic era
he! st oyl, he!
his limbs:
they are the cedars
over which the unbested
mounting-
manner-of-mine
we graze at each other
and at each other’s
limbs : tangled
matted and messy
i catch you looking
sheepishly at the mirror
sheepishly bested-seeming
though, you know full well
you’ve bested me
The Immediate Electricity
the immediate electricity
of an early morning trim
from an armenian punk
[possibly]in some buzzing
basements
fleeing with
fresh haircuts
the accidental knick
at the back of my head
or cyprus before the turks
or armenia after
Twins No Twins
one saturday morning
maybe this saturday
or perhaps one three months ago
and then again, not a saturday after all
but really a late friday night
punkrabbit had a gnawing feeling
that, despite already having a brother
that he also had a twin named
punkdandy, who was not really a brother
but a twin nonetheless
and stands to reason
must’ve been a brother
somehow . somewhere upstate
where furry chops were good against the cold
and soda was pop, and little white boys
hadn’t yet played with other brown boys
who’d already climbed a nice guava tree
or at least, not just yet, that
there were boys such as that
who’d been up such a tree
living upthere . upstate
where there are
only oaks
and maples
and pines
Honeycomb
all muscle, bone
and ligament, all
like footchases and lines
of powder, all canallike
bermlike, spattered all over
O without an H, O
O! with an exclamation point, O!
and sandpaper nape
and mossier arms
and lichened legs
the hairs
much like lichen
likened to lichen
lichenlike!
gams gripping pillows
and willows all donnelike
that’s john donne
fucken all johndonnelike to you!
all done-up
in a proper waistcoat
and the first beards of youth
bedecked in the blackest of indigos
all tricksterlike
you are a trickster
to the insufferably earnest!
levelerlike
leveler to all
leveler of egos
and helpmeets to ids
with much felix, i’d meet you
in the last room
in an always
much too dark flat
yes : that one
overlooking the airwell
bricked-up and all hazelike
and up we are
at not a terribly early hour
upped by the low throttle
of your sentrycat’s purr
aubades are never a thrill
slinking away all aubadelike
before the break of dawn
before husbands come back
before the normalcy
of life
of the rest of life
all intruding back
into our sequestered hut
of lichens, and heavy breaths
of sneezes
all wetlike on face
that—
all aubadelike
is what intrudes
the honeycomb
Evenly So
You Are Still Snoring
LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW TO THE SKY at as lead and depthless, Atticus twirls his toe on the sheet. Then looking over to his left, as it is always the case that every night he sleeps on the right, he spots his snoring bedmate. Or rather, he is his de ating bedmate, with the kind of snore that sounds more like a leaking tire. ‘This is unusual,’ Atticus thinks to himself, and yet not so, as he proceeds to remember the three leaky people in his life, though not all of them bedmates, to have had this slowburn dormant exhalation.
GOOD THING EVENLY IS NOT A VOLCANO. Or worse a ssure on the side of volcanoes, the kind that emits gasses that would knock parrots out of trees, water buffalos on their knees, men over the crumbling rims of calderas. He hasn’t bothered to mention to Evenly that he has come to call him that, at least if only in his head, and only when Evenly is his lefthand bedmate. Though this is never spelled so in texts. A play on his rst and middle names elided into one. ‘How did I decide to call him this?’ Atticus thinks, as he also wonders what there is to have for breakfast.
AS HE HAS NOTHING IN THE FRIDGE except horseradish and some kimchi. Or maybe the two tacos leftover from lunch yesterday. ‘I will have to take the tongue taco,’ as Evenly, despite his even tones though sometimes less even tempers, will balk at the thought of rolling meat the consistency of tongue through his own tongue. Nothing in the fridge expect some shishito peppers and the lube in the unmarked water bottle.
‘YEAH EVENLY WILL LIKE THE CABEZA TACO well enough yes,’ Atticus thinks to himself. ‘I’ll just say it’s beef cheek not beef head.’
SNIFFING THE SANDY COLORED HAIRS in Evenly’s pits, Atticus thinks of woods and myrrh. ‘Of course you would think of myrrh,’ the one unusual H dangling at the end of this unusualer word. Evenly swats Atticus’s nose away from his nipple. Or rather makes fake attempts to swat it. Evenly knows well enough that this is his bedmate’s habit every 9:30 of every Saturday morning in every instance before Atticus rushes Evenly out to his Honda, in order for him to rush out to his husband. Evenly doesn’t mind. He just pretends to sleep longer, and enjoys this leak of air puf ng on the crook of his armpit.
