for ACK

a beaten filthy golve
flexes best around a pop-fly
swinging branches
pointing them out to distance
these are the jokes
call the sun big sun
call a girl anything
holding cigarettes in our left hand
waiting for the next sizzle
not at all like love, Jack
unless you know where it comes
from.
and noses to water
the motion of moon waves.
why would you scream at me
pain vomit,
why is the death of us so important