I laugh a jellymural pressed into the red type of choral prints

I dont feel like your turquoise    stranger

learning melancholic                       .                               keys built into dead

baby joke (corrugated colors

of cocoseed ink

.

I wish you here                  (when you fillfoil

leaves   burnt     hill

pieces

coerce

brass cottonwood

cordjointed        next to you]

I imagine our eyes.          (phantom

yucca milk moon, whistles           his lips

“where we have been something of history mostly”

scissor cut

you empty the ashtray

.