I’m unsure whether there’s a lot of what I’m thinking of as “noise” that needs to be cut away here, or if the impenetrability of this one is something to keep, perhaps part of a surrealist charm.
Until you made the law
knowledgeable in paddle kisses,
beehive sunsets knew stubbornness.
Me, plate of the speck:
jump mulish to the sea.
Hurt this now; spill ingratitude.
A green having would show caught.
An excused stone against finish:
bridge you or it.
Corrugation stays craziness,
for it all is enough to live,
killing the year.
Would I kayak a pickle?
Edge–but anyway too afraid.
Oil knotted to necktie,
no you of inconvenience.
Like the sea chews a record
and the turn of the turn of it.
A needle makes you play serious,
precious. A longer not like
youth imprecisely turns
and the innocence now.