y e s mouth-open-certain-mercy-plugs  y e s a-cliff-thrive

y e s a-release-of-near-air
I have been thinking about you I have been passed by weather drowning a socket a clearing I have been c i r c u l a t i n g a socket a clearing I have been Softly Crossed Matter I have been feeding dryer sheets to a heart I have lifted it by my pleasure It swarms in f o s s i l s n o w It drifts in god paper I feel s l u t m o n e y I feel warm I have been thinking about writing to you in this way  

This body cavity, this carved in waste, I call the The Pulp Vs. The Throne. 

The Pulp Vs. The Throne steals inverted flowers--their late charges and their hard cases 
 torn into 
THE FALLS, THE FALLS.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne exposes a mass bouquet
aware 
of radar and
    understanding 

touching 
quietly 
 the floor. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne canopies trick riders into grated plums.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne canopies trick riders into sentence evacuees.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne canopies trick riders into runt garlands.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne is a flare skeleton 
    is a redbutter is 
a grave of lightdye. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne means to be harsh there. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne        is an Activity and a Markway 
   and a Pit of Acknowledgement.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne        is a Sun Cut in Two and the White Sap 
   and a Rough Decimal Caught in it.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne because I never feel safe.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne means to be sweet there.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne pulls threshold fumes
into the crookarm of my boom / my boob.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne pulls flinchbelieving into my riveted body.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne pulls veilscalp into my riveted body. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne pulls and The Geography of Needles
turns around throated and sold.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne pulls the crookarm of my boom / my boob It is so bright / 
attractive / insidious It feels like a square of moonbit in the seaI pick up
and call
   RAINLIGHT. 

The Pulp Vs. The Throne hears folds
or Undertow Folds or undertow it has 
the Tarp Roses in my nervous I'm so mine
in my nervous in my slash life I expand 
to uncover like it’s Almond
like it Burns Middles
to have them.  


The Pulp Vs. The Throne
SILK BOLTS FOLLOWED AROUND  
ONLY MY LOVE CAN KNOW AND
ONLYBY CUTTING ITSELF WILL IT. 

The Pulp Vs. The Throne says, Is this the dirty balcony limb? 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne says, Is this the estuary? 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne says, Is this the estuary full of WINDOW DRESSING? 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne says, Because it’s THICK. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne puts the mic on the dead bird, the airlump whistling thigh-like.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne names my pouchflesh L.L. BEAN. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne names my pouchflesh LANDS END. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne sticks the liquid the ledges the thugmuffins. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne sticks the vowcolor the plots of stain the building pelts.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne hears silence as soon as it’s in.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne the arrangement of the world trembles. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne the magic wrong responds. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne hears it say, MY YANKING POINT IS STRANGE. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne TELL ME I TAUGHT YOU TODAY.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne TRY TO. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne Can you explain everything stealing space? 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne Can you explain why I’m healing? 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne the magic wrong responds. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne hears it say, I’M READING SO MUCH ASHBERY. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne A Bulge is A Swell is A HEADDRESS. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne Can I shift and want in my HEADDRESS?
The Pulp Vs. The Throne flies out. To attend.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne cut to thoughts.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne cut to bloodvelvet.  
The Pulp Vs. The Throne I don’t care about dying, I care about energy. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne because calories. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne because pilgrim guts. 
The Pulp Vs. The Throne because rinks.
The Pulp Vs. The Throne go-figure-
The Pulp Vs. The Throne go-figures-
The Pulp Vs. The Throne go-figure-it-out
The Pulp Vs. The Throne spill bend stacks spill force spill

HUMAN REFRAIN IS A GATHERING / SPILL / 
HUMAN REFRAIN IS A BRITTLE  WHITE TRACK

spill underwear into your mouth   

spill   into the centered   earth   then turn it spill it is invisible 

and a wet hurlplant Still Blooming behind your nearness

spill where you are thrown by borehounds      
spill where they clamp down  spring you out
spill where you are so full of nearness to themYou Spill

because being this mob surface it hasn’t quite worked out has it

spill exhaustion
you tender clotted clutchhouse

spill HUMAN REFRAIN It is in the middle of my lovehands 
that say that say I have been thinking of writing to you in this way