naturally

Garden of gardens insect intelligence i left
my children half-born in a breakfast nest
a raptor a cry a tiny high heel fired
from the cannon into another cannon
we really wanted something from a factory
tokyo banana the tepid puke soup of soon

Green vein medium rose my black and tan particular
my stylist has some beauty pulls
uninvented fungus carving termite stripes in my sweet
potato contagious wounds air smithereens
staying at dinner until it becomes torture
feeding kisses to the standard poodle

The dots on dice are called pips i remember
everything would be fine dying however
an ancient dog leaping through his demented new
infancy dislocating his knees again and again
mauled to death by a swarm of any creature
terror engine burning fat in my personal philanthropy

Washed up transformed like a dragon a banquet of peace
a neighborhood that’s perfect that’s purpose a twinge:
atmosphere so adult contemporary amnia i piss
myself at a replica of versailles with the in-laws
saying oh nice oh wow so it’s poured concrete
oxtail is what it sounds like and i almost never feel unsafe

It’s like hell is another hell as weak as tracing paper
cloudy skin coming off in one piece from its eyeballs
tarantular calendar watch me wrap myself up
a while more the mechanics of injury and the magic
of illness a screw in an ankle a velocity sickness
me in a photo like a chihuahua in a coyote vest

New indications from the crispr team peek in on my children
confirm they get hale and dazzling that’s how
the flesh is tunneled out from our ethic
a technology is born so fast the room gets warmer
it’s impossible now to recuse yourself or your family

It kicks around breathing my blood i am so worried
the caffeine peptides are crossing over
i wonder how to sleep soundly and wake rested
and easily love my family and despair
about money on purpose and feel i am losing a war
another mushroom eating meat with its booby trap body

Against natural odds the whole thing walks
in the darkness and checks its traps plaster
casts lemon pepper hot honey deprived sigh
in the standing snags it will paralyze and vivisect roundworms
a real person with purple eyes a gnarled hand
i achieved it in the television

The extrahuman frequency The ex-form
an ink made from pokeberries i dont know i just
rub thick pink gel on my face and feel gorgeous
hydrolyzed eyelash french kiss essence of my prime
colloidal intellect invent an invasive procedure
with a fractious third act invent a ferrari

With a spider’s two penises framing its mouth
with a shriving knife for a wheel
i am at a beautiful wedding
i hate that
when you ask a believer how to believe they say try
that’s not romantic i saw a woman order a vodka coke

I can tell when a girl group are actually friends
tethered to one symbol i can hear it

into

Oh no oh fuck all of my blood
turned into yogurt soda i had to
fly to las vegas to feel i wasn’t
the most uncanny freak anywhere
started to fray like silk ribbon this year
with some delicacy some ductile memory

I’ve heard a man is testing honey
for its shape memory broadcasting live
some futured-into pointe shoe a gray film
on the windows and on the picture frames
cried a fistful of abortive tears
then braided down
the days trying to scry what bore them

This is a way of walking backwards i learned
yesterday about a violent cult of preteens
with a stupid title i found out three people
suicided at disney world in a week grist
for the happy mill and this isn’t
a culture obviously i’m simply cutting
coins off a pink radish: vaulting over a paywall

I learned everything about terror
to make sure it isn’t touching me
collapsed really under the afterglance
the stink of brake pads in the rain
a devon sawa feeling: my public
disordered intelligence
ordered the animals to mount my tv

Measuring 35in in height yumemi kōbō
(or the dream factory) compels
bullseye-style dreaming
in children and adults a resonant frequency:
curls of smoke or boar bristle whispers
on my scalp i get obsessed with a program
where dl men beat each other

About each other each gust of illness
gust of shame my skin whipped
around my skin a dog rotated his tires
and he got his brain straight

from small bones i built a big wing
turned it hard and white in a soda lake
i’ve decided i don’t want to change

zach blackwood is a poet and arts administrator in philadelphia, pa. he is the author of ultra-fine from blush lit and the apocryphal chapbook sexy unique hollow point. he has published in peach mag, occulum, bedfellows magazine, maudlin house and here too. he is available on the worldwide web @blackwhom