Make a figure      of frequency      a figure living      a social      struggle

a man      once      who grew      breasts      you could see them      especially

when      agitated      in water      my toy bride      in so public      a gown

those aren’t arms      they’re gestures      that isn’t      a draw-     bridge

that’s      my      personality      May I fit      my arm      through          your arm,

so      proprioceptively      as when      one plays      some      instru-     ment

one opens      a fan      the creek drain      while we turn away      and      creep now,

creep on all fours      and illuminate      Turn      on the light      turn     on      the light

her black paintings      her      zero-level      memoir      Oriole

says to Fox,      no matter      what you want      to say      about     it,

we should      ink up      those      titties      In what sun      do the      neurons      of the brain

bask      their ripe produce      as a function      of having to be     one      plays

Flag      go hang      over action      separated      She was      once      a

once a      once a      in the      aborescent      fronds of sum-    mer

in the      instructions      the orchard      oriole      sang      of      herself

life’s curvatures      the cassettes      in      a coitus      full of      bursting

with      face      face of a human      three women      waist-deep in water

directing      white cattle