having had no proper family name I made do
with Stingray never loved a man so-called
for more than a generation black and white
suffer nameless conditions
instigated by the father’s line of nobody
murmurs to the baby “goodnight nobody”
there is no longer any way to count
beneath the highways of the Eastern Seaboard
above the Mason Dixon line
underlie so many crossings
what to me the arched wing of a black Stingray
who think weeping over her vicious mouth
somnolent practice of stuck terror, of the wave
is stingray the atomic principle of giantism
make my whole mouth move around the fire
make the fire everywhere or cold
on this street Stingray where a man thinking his boat
beauty knowing moneys or leather, white leather
feeling however the killing power of the great sea monster
her haunch whip a think acquired as a gorgeous capital
wait and sting why Odysseus
always in trouble with the one-eyed
what caused His love of lake demons
(her gauze whimple
under blacklit stars)
His very early anticipation
of the right guitar sound
its fullness, no
re-union of ocean and desert
just reflect on the history of the house
57 rays die in Chicago
for want of so lush a malapropism
I wait a long time outside the ocean
and your body sometimes nothing of images
dead brown and such like luminous captivity of the dead
repeated back to our obsessional contemporary
says back a weird lie
when inside me a bit of god comes out your mouth
as the command to feel you what
kind creature will you take me from being to what
her mallow glamor warns
warmed in glowering ripple light
this liquid this death to you
lady come under this death it is ablaze
in its blue white perfection hold your hand like a cup
water light will pour you into the whole day
the deafening memory of your tenth year
occurring in the space between sunup and sundown
on a plot the size of an hibiscus flower
you, miss
The Bicentennial was yesterday
write queer and muggy apparently evening
every minute the Declaration must be signed
firework on the barge child mind
to which no Superfund has yet gently repaired
get me a Stingray the color of slate
a little girl switchblade the horizon of which is an arc
gutter oil slick Delaware that horizon
is New Jersey a plot (her shore)
farms send blueberries and war
In this form it is impossible to be together
it is being nothing at all then cast in this court trick
vulvar form o clamped then
between together and nothing
forms of sand coarse pink edible
no seams along which to break
a black flag waves in hot wind
form of formless a craft, a craft appears
materialized hot gas
raucous to suspend life outside of life
shadows beyond wishing
and male news emplotted to hover
no wools or porcelain anywhere in sight
of the flat class
vanities pool
heteronomous in the tight
withdraw from earth
one fractal initially
retreat then
the slick thing quavered she said
of sediment rustling abashed
contemplation of stones rushing together
under the fresh
lake not the elementary bite of capital
give that is a wound
and she, raw, bloodless
could you bleed housed gowned
fucked in a prehistoric manner
still sea monster
the very source
or the veil
complete silence, silent
inhalation or stopped time
time, being unmet
totally unregulated
slack and unreturned
the dna then
she becomes another one