tv by leum - Issuu

poems by leum

< tv v vi iiv ivi vii iiiv iivi ivii viii xxx ix xi ac >

for Andrea, Simon, Ma, Pa

< —great! A shark’s fin…

tv i give a ? to only receive an ! i tend the ( ) to put up [ ] all over my body essentially, im only a # away from becoming a , and we all know what happened to the . at the end of the sentence “ ” said the & about the * @ every $ not given to the 1% or how they / & / away at gold silver ^ | ingots anywhere like the : of africa or the _ of california hence i want CTRL an ESC from the { } of \ after backlash i understand the ~ makes things difficult between mexicans + americans and if you subtract me from the words the difference is less noticeable - of course any ’ that gets in the way of all these letters sent to you which is = to this x that which leaves me wondering what is < and > my heart and y

v To be washed clean by the tongue of a dog, sincere animatronics of the matrix in the making, to become the food we ourselves eat, a battered door without any locks or keys.

vi an actor too aware of his own acting out in a cohort of syllables & similes picking out daisies from a word bank sharing my words with you tears like glitter obviously a firework show to commence the ceremony seasoned pork-loin extravaganza dreams i want to believe i am a hooded machine fire truck to the rescue an actor acting out his own distractions too distracted

iiv i blow the wind and its direction like so no more escape no more desire no more fire no more relief a vice a day a black ear white face bluejay warning so then i left the alphabet i grew up with in a cold cold dark hurricane watch caramel silk smooth you never run out of want the sound of a barrier alarm drowning in the rain what came first the bee or honey lately ive been holding my wings too close to the bonfire crackle we interrupt this holiday for flocks of crows drinking the poolside clean with speech and caw

ivi The page feels silent, a cold hand cider-pressed blend of cement pushed against my face like a soft kiss to the sun

vii give me sex or give me death over this piss-soaked concrete like yours, my heart stunned Where all my dreams must come from The trees scream falling colors / tracing constellations herebyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;heretoâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;hereinafter here is my heart made with my hands preserved in plastic prerogatives say clay say clay say hotbox What are all these commas holding apart The trees scream i fi you fo always a fee the drums fum spider suburbia vulture ibis type of sky Lately, I've been letting the clouds talk for me The trees scream red dusk, downtown glow

iiiv she a bag of thorns infinity spinning trifling birch skiptracing supreme dior dreams

iivi for Andrea There are no woods here, only backyard bouquets a clear gratified charity of indulgences I gave my love to the moon and now sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s stuck floating around like a satellite There are no words here, only scattered sunspots the rhythm of your lips when you speak silent discordant alphanumeric lines tying our fingerprints together that I built, and I build and I build towns and castles and walls annoyingly announcing anything fore ever love errs dripping from the dippers flat and blue over either side of the mountain I drink my heart from I keep chipping away at my cup I talk so loud in my sleep, I can never wake up There are no wolves here, only harrowing howls I pause after giving thanks to think of my faults golden evenings lecture the clouds I hopscotch a ballad to a waltz word by word licking the pavement as I walked

ivii if im the plaid vocab paperweight in striped ripe knick knack notches you sew in your sleep what from that would my heartbeat beat away

viii for Jean Carlos There is no fate on these walls, just paintings fading away I need to be cleansed of these American streets the dirt accumulates on my dirty faces panache ants walk on my graves gold and mercury drunk through the ages drinking the stars and stirs and waters and lavender drafts and canary inks why do you need so many answers leaves uplifted by the windâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s shoulders all the ghosts that were never heard waiting for the second coming of migrating doves I feel like I'm writing a poem questions and exclamation marks all over the front door in a prairie marsh not accustomed to my whereabouts He thinks I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t trust him She thinks I wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t love her

x I stop to salivate a syzygy of moon full palms staring at the corner of a dead end sky my tears saturate the rain you keyboard my life into a sonnet and call it rain and the rain gets sad and calls it a monday and I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t say a word unless itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s moonless tentative sensations of backwards thinking so for that, I thank myself selfless and speech and speech and speech ad libitum im sorry, i cant live without you, ill see you soon,

x i am a testament of absolution ex here, the moon grown roses from a concrete sidewalk

x A fresh thatch lays an old poem on me. Every now and then I lose you too in the archives of hollow rhyme asymptotes speaking off-key through a turntable. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m elapsed, I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to rewind exalted exempt excoriated except white the sun fades in a polaroid and too soon does my heart reach for the moon to ask for another goodnight kiss.

ix All moonlight stems from light; stay, umbra. I eclipse at the blink of a shadow. A night without its day.

xi There was once a day, but then it met its night. I write my name naked down on each dusk. I love the amber of trees in the autumn twilight. I bless the rain mimic the siren serious. Are you talking to me through a broadcast boom kiss muse what Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m not my parents, a bird and dog user sure sir the light escapes my eyes, my lips, i cant control you anymore A railroaded tremulous ruse outrĂŠ human zoo in effect Tonight, I give my heart senseless to myself to beat and abuse at my own accord Tonight, I bury my body headless lacking a vacant want I never meant to build.

ac I can’t walk right now, the sun chalks the sublime loop around a Christmas tree the colors take on the colors of other colors period case in point I am muse sick an endgame marvel hawk nail fence biting keys off my back since I can’t talk straight, a moth walks the sublime loop around me me me a messy age of snail mail socialism the eyes take on the eyes of other eyes dot dot dot is what I brought gesturing to an analog construct like so I can’t, too many vowels in you speak volumes of whiplash on past whistleblowers and the NSA has no care to what I think about lackluster air-conditioning or the sulfur of the streets & the ellipses that follow …

> slipknot catalyst in effect would empty confusion shadow silent melancholy unseen would people broken know about every storm though always lonely which forest flower lost the moon at dusk and with a bank of words I am able to crawl out of an embankment of rocks