My Will Sharpened and Blunted

my will to break the heart of the world with a shrug
my sight is a sock with holes in it
among all those violent heckles and boos
worms are the stars inside
water is boiling on the stove under the six
the surface reflex and corners
begin what is the jaded bird in the sacred bulb
suffering the human pastiche the gone
mystique already I can smell the moss growing
circles please come carve with me
in time become plural
as if the gendered body hides nearer to god’s in the hinges
down batterson drive I grow up
with my whimpers’ eyes in the shadows crust
again my psyche’s lost without
on a bench with the surgeon general’s warnings wrapped
the delicate strife that ticktocks my spine
starred with benevolent gingivitis
as such a song is made of
the sun beyond the dream of sunlight or
there is no need like the future
I am ready to fall up out of myself as if all I wanted to return
the wind removes the raindrop west
follow the muskrat of that body’s sky blue skin in the paint
of my very own invisible rooms
always from a mousehole
between my teeth I hold the pencap but no pen