conjugated poems from March

I was dripping wet something
electronics drunk with
forceps clenching up jaw tight
like it's something real
today

oh God, God, where is
he now
my friends are dumb
interns like they've
never jumped off a cliff and
thought about it

She acts like she has nine
lives while she wastes her
one
the chair with the brown fuzz
clumps enveloped her
for five days we
thought she had suffocated when
she didn't
call back

Yes, yes, yes,
I can kill that spider for you.

well at least you have a job.
at least you are yourself,
most days or all of them.


the atmosphere
is so heavy these
days, some day
I'll write my outsides
in

It's the second time
she's used that word
and I still don't know
what it means even
in context


God damn it, I'm bleeding.

Dear flies,
Get out of my mouth

it is my tongue
not your youth

binding my gold
fillings shit fillings