LOVE THE FLICKER

 

i love every thing that flickers
and a fresh hole
keep the cone in my step
when the body entered the action so i painted it

afraid your actions don’t belong to things
like a disappointing throw—now who is that for?
fog, lamp, candle,
camera, odor, pool
these are my things
the only things i like

 

MOTHERS

i indeed
am flappable, i need to clean the printhead

dad’s a basic octopus, mother is millions of offspring
they sit in the sea, food & eaten
then she’s a tearing and shriveling
sad rag on the seafloor

one time, an artist made MOTHERS hugely out of neon tubing
set it on steel I-beams painted black, beneath a low ceiling

another time, he turned the lights on and off
on people