If I could just say something first
The failure would be total
And thereby perfect, a foreclosure
On my sense of our light speech
Carried by the gifted subscription
To cheap filler injected in the arousal
Our molecules spin decorously
Through the gulf between my body
And yours, any words available to us
Duplicative whether here or there
The parody is endless, oil glistening
Across the surface, mixing with the
Perilymph, accreted obsidian cloud
Along the wall of the bony labyrinth
The formula is simple, save for the fact
I’ve never had a thought in my life
That didn’t poison itself knowingly
Even if I hear you now, I’ll still need
A tactic to pull me out, I’ve already
Started remembering, what else
Could this be or have been, dictation
From nothing, simply ignited in
Blue light I realize my gestures
Are being watched, I forgot
We’re recording, my mental is chalked
I didn’t know I was already live in the middle
Of a poem, where internal reason
Tears the voice across thirty-four miles
Of triple concertina wire in dark mode


*



Here, forty thousand viewers gather
For the sleep stream. The cold film’s collected
Vantage pulsing fed itself into the dark dream
Corridors, the places we meet, governed
By stereoscopic illusions run free, perceiving
Distance by the subject doubled, the
Subject an unsolvable anagram
Your plum weft spun through, the warp
Hole perforates the body, a vessel coursing
Attuned to the meter of a life
I’ve never lived: Do you want me to
Cave into my want corrosive as going without
The green static burning the night’s insect
Formula purged, but then someone held me
Too tenderly for what I deserve, it was this city
But lit differently, incandescent, but I wasn’t
Me, like in San Francisco when they ran their
Hand across the shoulders, down my back
Whispering “Motives by excess reverse their
Very nature,” and bore inside, gaping
The ground from which longing comes
To furrow the drives and open  
Blue trills in my obedience made


*



This feed is a weak seduction
Readied by vernal noise and
The high drone of the server room
A burden, repeating at the end of each
Clip in which I rehearse my appetites
To translate the primitive edge
Of my voice, bound with its exhibition
Clip in which I take up repetition
To split time, the form returns me
To the clinic, where under supervision
Primal asymmetry is restored
As your craving punctures the skin
Exogenous I guide the liquid night
Unconcealed by mood-states
Which are a new feature, given
As prescribed in our TOS
We will mine the data
For phantasies, rare-earth elements
Pulled from your eyes and clipped
For the benefit of all, I’ll stop
Due to significant shareholder investment
There has never been ordinary
Weather in my voice, a twitch
Here in the stream, the white noise
Machine a curtain, a non-local field
Unfolded my topographical perversion
Incommensurate with the designs
For any diurnal chronology re-
Sub for no ads, if you want
To narrate something, narrate
The high drone of the server room


*



Outside the people is a whole other thing

Resourceful, biological, and vast

If you say the words, the words say themselves

And the cranial nerves give way to a sympathy

Head resonance in the shape of an urn

Remembering the world in its chordal tract

You’ll tell them about butter on radishes, tell them

We were here, cranking 90s and taking height

We were given extraordinary LED lights

In their glow we spoke of betrayed desire

Before we were given names, we paid premiums

After a pause, a heat record, something static

A scene: the condensation of an atmosphere

Little wavering Jack in the Box antenna ball

We had the Niners, the Giants, the Christmas edition, too

We had all of these

It’s called space when it sways

It’s called the weather when it fast-forwards

I put your words inside me so that I might know

To test if it’s real, taste it

My words become throat-sized so that you’ll speak with them

You’ll tell them I’ve been busy scoping out a Very Large Array

My colleagues? They’re out there

Cruising across the Queensboro Bridge

Content streaming down their faces


*


The streamers weaving in air
The impassioned recitation, wrong
Words, old symptoms for new rewards
I’m trying something here
I’m preparing for the new season
I’m losing my channel points
In today’s video, we’ll incorporate
Eighteen days in bed
Into my routine, that’s all
Better now to seal the hours
Open each window and
Assume the position, broken
By the intimacy of anonymized
Sincerity, I maintain several accounts
Which bio-luminesce to your touch
As embarrassing as it sounds
I’ve never been better
Things have never been better
Each day torrents
50 dollars to unblur, if it exists
Chat will tell me so
Try it again, aphasia
Dispersing vapor between
Moon-to-moon hyperlinks
To convert a question
To a need