Karla Kelsey

from Iteration Nets


My heart, the warring span of song, road map illimitable of the television, virtual flowers, perception in the eye folding, unfolding, end slaking a wry lean thrust luxuriated in the dream or fear of the absence of hearing, a morning spawn done wrong. Mute. What it meant: modes lap ill. What it means: limits table old things, a scolding rend to horizon, on the beach a running to the moment feet sink in, given to and dropped off into the concrete, into the lights, run into and aching away green trust

Of the crux of the flower, dust, holding the innards. Still asleep in its bunny the world arrives running out of lyre, sound, will complete. An iteration of the gone virtual, limits running a whorled demise, the gone roaming with horses under visions of moons, the circle of sky seen when I saw pyres. When I sighed asking the savior, wind in mane, eye splitting sight of split hooves, the nail rusted in as the citizens are asleep in vast orange libraries of dreams.

By quarters and less softly marred we weep or stuttering or uttered cast mourned liberties and seem myself into my new position, an undecided formula whose negation isn't provable. The bus rolling through and then the hills and there the green and I am half here, a half leaning. Tolling, the day folds, acacia, burnt myrrh, velvet, pricky stings, the point of view in a collection of objects to which the eye is directed and on which it rests within a certain distance. But still we feel luminous extensity, a case of learned cur, pelvic licky rings,

mi corazón and unrequited form. You love the yes and the no, choose form built for solid spring, no more flurries and snow meeting stone, relations driven moveable. That I've scattered myself typographically looking for these and sound: sepal flower where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers. Cornice gone lazy in the eye and once again set out to clear my sight to see: there slow rolling sky or hills, the rain of season come and the elements guessed at, then relinquished, almost paused as slow rain as oxygen capacity when lungs have begun to fail and delight hammocks twist. Paradoxical logic emergent, real-time image and an intensity of detail: light, humble, showers

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