No hens were thoughtful enough to lay an egg for me, but plenty of them did lay eggs….At first
                                this came as a surprise to me, and I realized I was forgetting their traditional role as functional
                                farm animals and looking on them only as objects of beauty
                                                                                                                                --Photographer, Extraordinary Chickens

 

 

the Cochin white frizzles
the dark Brahmas
beside the Belgian bearded d’uccle mille fleur
the Houdan mottled choking down the last of the night
beside the Ameraucana blue wheaten, the Araucana white rumpless
the Hamburg white and silver spangleds, their coral reefs of comb
beside La Fleche, forked and spiked against the Appenzeller Spitzhauben
                Polish cresteds, fluffing across the mine fields, Polish silver laced,
                Polish white buff, golden crested, Polish lemon penciled, bearded chamois
                Polish frizzle bantam bearded blue—ain’t nobody here but us
beside the silkie non-bearded, beside the silkie bantam, Spitzhauben
beside the morbidly obese, flocking towards metaphor
                but away from wheelbarrows, precautionary measure
beside the white (meat) nuggets, the frizzled tenders, Araucana fingers, Wyandotte strips
                forgive me, they are delicious
so much depends upon
a Friesian penciled
ripping its feet out under the rain
beside a red
wheelbarrow

This.  Frogs turn white as newts in their jars, diving prayers, pale livers, solid.  Functional, complete, captured and suspended, their bones soldered to the lax muscles.  Flush and heavy, filling out, fleshing forward their sad balloon mouths, organs differentiated by the water.  Resistant, because we have ruined them, their arms cursing us as they pucker into the water.  The soft fat heart, palm thing, converted it to liver, to pancreas, a smooth dam marking the negative space of yellow water, to this, this that flakes off into the water, but we will hold it together, come into the ground, come into the ground.

the gently rolling of a bird stop she felt overboard stop warm plaster thermal camera trust the thermal imaging camera stop

<the champagne cork cages, the dimeweight in your palm, the adductor muscle, the things you throw away>

there is one mushroom that grows inside a dead woman.  the redcaps bearing her up.  what you could fit in a child’s hand. 

A song in optative, with textures and arousals.  Someone must take my pears.  I have a fine kettle of metaphorical fish; most days, they are children.  They do not precisely gape, nor do they hold a pose.  When boiled, they will roll sideways and fold themselves into a fruit.  Bartlets grasp my ankles, gnawing hymns.  They trot here and there, mouths full of something’s skin, often full of mine.  A greenish sorrow that rots in paper bags, yes, but twirl them in the sun, you’d never know.  Nothing, you see, is planned.  I let the fish onto the lawn, they clip along, and nothing comes of it.  True, they are happy to soften the grass, but in the end it isn’t quite home.  They have sulked in samovars, sung the song of the empty, bitten cups.  Hands chapped with scales, a bitter lens, and though I turn them like a garment by the jaws, nothing comes out but would have been better left alone.  It is dusk.  The fruits are biting.  I cannot hold them.

1.  To feed things is to diminish your returns.
                i.a.  to open a mouth and what it would take of your hand

2.  It is my floor because of the shoes on the landing.
                ii.a. my feet are for the slippers I nest them.
                ii.b. they are remarkably good slippers that would ground me to a thousand fibers of moment.  In the absence of slippers, other domestic objects may follow. Corriolis under the carpet.

3.  If the mouth should open itself, take advantage.
                iii.a. Bedroom dangers include a state of being-in-luggage.  Interested?
                                iii.i. You aren’t. Go to the kitchen and break down more food.
                                iii.ii. You are. Find someone in the kitchen and give instructions.
                iii.b. Do you think it is an easy task to write a book?
                                iii.i. Do you think it is an easy task to inflate a dog?
                                                bbb.i. Through the nose, a dog can be filled with seed.
                                                bbb.ii. Do not ignore the joints for their storage potential.
                iii.c. Filling is function. Dangerous animals should not be received as allegory.
                                iii.i. There are prongs in the kitchen.

                                                ccc.i. The bears. The honey therefore.