If we are living in a time living

in which one could become


either a necromantic diviner

or an herbalist


of nope,

never gonna happen


a torment that could

be eternal


the artichoke, the sock, the lemon bar, the noodle

will all stay


many thanks

3D printer in the maker room


and to the employees

bent into silence


over important searches

that one was not to disturb


but likewise fall into

the treasure

hunt, the rest and concentration


precise as an acupuncturist’s needle

until the flesh goes


all human obliteration or aura

so incomplete


we hand ourselves over

in advance to the police


when you contacted me I was handcuffed

on the peak of such post-truth


slope-facts

right at the apex


of whatever survives, survives

especially those not taken in a war


who show up at the door looking like disappeared

lostfriends selling solar


panels of which our future graves

are pieces of great, ancient oxidized mirrors


from another century’s

caste-ridden castle

also designed to coax the sun


missing missing

scrim of mountain


I was picking through a bin

of rags


to make a broadcloth

to cover our sensitive skin


they are all such good people I think,

I think, I think love can do such things.