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October 25, 2014 / barton smock

tic

brother was fury jerked around by a pair of eyes.

god
the unsuccessfully
tortured
contortionist / was road.

bedroom was the trunk of a repossessed car. mother
was not a single
speed bump.

hotels
were dry
land. hotels

protested

abandonment.

silence was the liquid diet
of an orphan
whose insides

glowed
with traces
of paint
found only

in river.

father was the light that as a boy he was left in.
that as a boy
I predicted
in small amounts

by blinking.

October 24, 2014 / barton smock

serum psalm

I wake my children until there are three of them.

I see god so I can say I’ve seen god
without
his gas mask.

on leave from pregnancy,
my wife
admires
how well
I project
concealment.

our baby
slept
coiled
in the bucket
we saved
from the well.

my knowledge of dolphins
includes
how long
their offspring
can survive
in a tank
of my father’s
blood.

I once thought
my cock
was sobbing.

so did you.

October 24, 2014 / barton smock

woman as pity

pictures
before and after
of nothing.

morality porn.

brushstroke, breast, blackmail.

a dressing down
of sexual
beings.

when set, the alarm
disappears.

dear kid, not twice
did I lose
myself
during.

dear weirdo, it was hardest
to keep
with me
the word

degenerative.

she once sent a car
for her son’s
carseat. the car

was so
mad.

October 24, 2014 / barton smock

woman as silence

when on hold

she draw a mean

mini

jesus

October 23, 2014 / barton smock

code psalm

the wounded cursive of the boy who thinks himself chicken

October 23, 2014 / barton smock

form psalm

I find the boy’s name on a list in another boy’s diary. a gun goes off in a dream I don’t have anymore. the animal gets between my son and my son’s imaginary friend. the root of its insomnia is not man but the fear of personification. god’s gone when the story starts. to war, to war.

October 22, 2014 / barton smock

site

I lasso the calf just before it makes the ocean.

overhead, a helicopter
from my past
spins.

my son says
to himself
this isn’t
your father’s
sandcastle.

luck is the stone
that marks
the dream. dream

the stone
that marks
the dead.

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