Untitled #6

Untitled #6
By Michael Aird
you there—
sitting cross-legged or with both feet on the floor
nobody talks the mechanism of space
into a perfect mousseline that snows
this new lisp under
it’s good to be home and accurate
that the evidence loves us either way
gallops out ahead to pericopic
sightings of the sun in sunflower
which makes my viscera shine in an
ever-widening capacitance
for handing over the truth
[what follows was either charred once or it wasn’t]
and after the look alikes, serrated unison
of what was said and you saying it
if not twice, sweet duplicate that melts
into a Zorn’s citation of subset me
ingesting every last heavenly drop
can we really do this forever?
pluck your lyre three times for yes
a fourth for similars
minus the side-effects

0 thoughts on “Untitled #6

  1. very strange. i’d like a title on this one to maybe explain a bit of something. lots of square words in anotherwise round poem. works good like that for some reason letting the reader never get quite comfortable in the poem. “uncomfortable” should be somewhere in the title of this poem.

  2. this is maybe my favorite post in recent history. it comes to many conclusions at once, and they blur each other, like simultaneous musics. i don’t disagree with the fact that it produces discomfort. perhaps i am too inclined to extract truth from awkward and uneasy places.
    anyhow, your stanzas are contained perfectly between the first and last line of each. in this way, they make their statements. also, the well-placed weary question of
    “can we do this forever?”
    leads directly toward an exit and
    drips straight down to an ending
    that hangs
    so lovingly
    on my unsuspecting teeth.
    thank you for this. please send more.

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