§9. (from .a mine of gleaming beetles.)

my parents

did clerical work

my father one of church and state

my mother

one who did both versions of what that could mean

of pertaining to appropriate

for or assigned to an office clerk

for which she played a law firm

of relating to or characteristic of

the clergy or a member therein

for which she played answerer and planner of sorts & wife

my father

a company man

often times to a fault

until i was taken seriously and at

l(e)ast heard about it

despite what may have been told to you

what you may have believed for years

even what you may have stumbled across in this book

often isn’t what it appears to be

the plush of a thread count

and the chill of fingers

promising a time they’ll return

to enjoy it with you

the smallness of a foot’s graze

the warmth of coffee-nestled breath

they often are not what they appear to be

and may only perhaps be understood

in short brief passing encounters

surfaced: a video of less than reputable sources finding their friend transfixed on a less

than reputable road

when the feet started running

there was something shaky

about the camera. some

thing almost artificial

added on the same

wobbly artifice that was in the footage

of the bear you’d seen but hadn’t quite yet taken the time to edit

somehow

the phrase i tried to do too much

was always a terrible disclaimer

in value of the specific

the precise

the most unrealistic version of things

that there ever was

and that there ever would be

no soul but lies here

in the fate of a newly

found verse

and objects

the kind to scrape things with

hair-nestled nail gave off

a description much harsher colder

than what had originally spawned the words

that means to say that means to say that confusion many despite source primary

perhaps a kind gentleman inside glass could be variation enough to avoid copyright infringement

have i made it obvious yet

no of course not

it was originally thought of as a moment of dire but

tepid embrace

one stumbled upon

never looked for

never complained when finding

startling

(a) fortepiano

in the sense of dynamic

as well as instrument

loud then soft

(c)old then warm

a fortnight

in the sense of

misspelled game

as well as a long period

(they left it there longer than they needed to

they left it there longer than they needed to on purpose)

for a while

i was into

completing portraits

and making things seem like they did

(only to me)

but in a way that sounded like someone else had seen

the exact same thing and had taken it upon themselves to write it

a long time ago

i had been nervous

about finding what was in there

what was locked in the chutes of nerve ladders

kept in my head

and now

writing

this

i find that what’s more terrifying

is leaving them in there untouched

unaroused and untickled by a nib

for example

what would become of the man

transfixed on that road

and how would that string

in this whole mess

of them ever get

plucked or

wound

if it

was

not

at

some point talked about

at least just a little

at some point

a night imposter

of thousand time small comparisons

became windows of the third estate

who hopes to clean them

what would become of his friends

his less than reputable friends

who were holding shaky

cameras and not

admitting

their true

intentions

i don’t personally think

the count of views made up for destroying what they did

and even if it was just an act

i don’t personally think

the count of views made up for destroying what they did

you got a lot of suitcases and rules

they were lipstick on pigs

do you know who i am (apparently)

someone with a lot of suitcases

the fingers returned

later than they said they would

and you loved them more than willingly

let them come in anyway and leave themselves

and their marks on the place to which their tardiness

never really knew an end or beginning to think that there was

a time in which those were fingers were beside you and in places you

didn’t have time to explain or make sound like anything less than what it sounded like

and in many regards you’d lost those fingers

to time and effort and custom and acquaintance

and you watched those fingers hold the pig’s lipstick

and you would comment on how they were the fingers of

a cop and that you knew they weren’t really a cop’s but that it

always seemed that way and that that was the struggle you’d found

yourself having with their fingers and why you raised your voice talking to them