BLOWING YODA

but here is what i saw 
coaxing blossoms out of utility 
weak without the fire of a ball in space
cheapening my own temporariness 
unsure of its authenticity 
time does not do for others what you think
it does for you 
someone else’s hunger comes to inhabit
then even govern 
your own 
in the next type i will stay 
being born from insult. 
all that space in the language of the unemotional
all that lake in the text of the chemical.

FLOOR SOUP

this pile of reflex could have stayed a string of incidents.
i got no belief in wrestling with sound. 
your kiss felt like a paper question 
that had a prism in it and warm sand: 
being all against hot dune in night. 
win the kisser 
kiss the winner 
desire is the prize 
wanting space justice and never placing. 
what could you have wanted to know? 
if this anatomy is not your ribbon 
if all text is mere rhetoric 
not for its disutility but for its act 
the prism warps 
i am attracted to this unforgivingness 
and transgress yours from all mine. 
would this homosexuality have 
anything to do with compensation? 
when 
you tilt, your guesses are all gone – 
even sound is out of way.
what denies this mechanism, 
longer than the whale? 
naked berry sleeping bee 
butter in my love 
frosted apples dropping thru 
your half curtain 
from the top every 
day of my liberation. (kisses dune right after)...(
(kisses dune)...)kisses dune(...

Pauling Thorow is a shy mess.