unfinished syllogism
 
 
 
		Consider it done,
 
		       a palace of over
 
		  turnings, a place
 
		outfitted in missed spit spelled
 
		            dislocationary - one
 
		letter knocked loose, a tooth
 
		        licked slack - a ruse
 
 

		of argument
 
	         		ground down
 
    		to powder in the face
 
		of the powderless
 


 

		FLAG / DMZ
 
		_unfinished syllogism_
 
 
 
		If there had been a fabric
 
		came ripped & then stitched up
 
		to naysayers tender
 
		in battle - switching sides,
 
		a dressing down outside
 
		the bounds' wounds
 
		of demarcation, speaking before
 
		being broken in two - as in
 
		gauzy nausea
 
		blotted in common then
 
		divided - to be eaten
 
		with set teeth - gapped
 
		capped & tested unbreathing
 
		over tours & lapses, broken & returned
 
		to the sender - 
 
 
 


		_u. s._
 
 
 
		Every theme song is themselves
 
		a dream: an ice breaker quarries
 
		spings and spangs of starry chips
 
		& minor premise spells
 
		the obvious, stirred to death - 
 
		drinks to glitzy unions on the rocks
 
		just pointed sore. A fair
 
		amount of blood
 
		letting it splash up
 
		on the beach's screen; the meeters
 
		who can't stand to leave
 
		their meeting, & the dealmakers
 
		mistaking misgivings
 	
		for a gift outright 
 
 

 

		_unfinis_
 
 
 
		This meal is a collapse
 
		of intentions to share needs
 
		freely, between persons
 
		diverted from the origins of
 
		"messy" appetite - all meals are gone
 
		unable to keep separate
 
		these words make us laugh.
 
		The loss is shit,
 
		reconvened under the oaken table
 
		where lie crumbs of togetherness,
 
		purview, system. It's
 
		raining outside. It all.
 
 
 


		_u._
 
 
 
		So when the contused
 
		becomes audible, lips
 
		of wounded indecision press
 
		together - bright blue
 
		seams for the meantime - 

 
 
		then hesitate, poised
 
		apart for the word
 
		of the future
 
		in the all
 
		or nothing situation
 
		it's all you think of
 
		nothing but