#1
A couple pathways chewed into cheeks
the possum pathway between two efficiencies
everyone’s hungry sound is stainless steel.
We have little necklaces of insects to adjust
if nervous. If scented.
An engine that smoothes hair
when the recipient is sleeping.
A couple pathways all chewed up
in diy motorbike light, a blue shoveling.
The mask in the branches has a bedtime routine
but I’m late to listening, listening later than
the sound actually happened.
A misunderstanding, smeared all over.
What’s playing inside the vireo?
Is the data reflecting accurately?
Did my hybrid unfold?
Not a heart set on splicing but still.
(You can) hear the leaf litter’s
pretty even accompaniment
shadow of the left hand
and a real disregard for bird migration.
My supergenerative mouth
having formed just to take this trip
the idea of an auditorium
in diy motorbike light.
Still feeling blue between the branches
wet halo of waiting
for nothing surprising, cross my heart
the sensation of sitting
without slipperiness or adjustment.
What’s playing inside the vireo.
Too intentional to witness it
a cream & sugar request
a wild snuffle at the halfway mark.
Little light & time casinos
body as an old fashioned
bicycle bell and a rake that needs
the leaves combed out:
“I thought I’d ask”
if I have to light up my own
face–a real disregard
for bird migration.
What was playing
in the unpleasant aisles
or do you get to use both your hands?
Apparently bug zappers
still exist–”I’ll take that
into consideration”
which is basically a nest made.
I have redacted the method
I have realized the best I can hope for
is seeing the leaves move above
the event and welts everywhere
all my netting tied back
still in my summer-weight language
forgetting ecstasy, honestly
or do you get to use both
your hands–it’s hard to explain
what time it is: a cream & sugar request:
to have a grasp on the passage
now a pattern of zapping me
right out of my skin
which is basically a nest made
without slipperiness or adjustment.
If nervous, if scented.
I have redacted the method
but maintained the punctuation
ellipses into consideration
between two efficiencies
or do you get to use both
it’s hard to explain
ecstasy, honestly
“I thought I’d ask…”
#2
Mushrooming close to the chest
moon-like over the lake
the big pink flower’s face even seems to woof
who else digs a hole and starts over
this glowing semi-circle
you can’t stand it, middle of the night
the strange flower now even digging–
we blew the lid off but whatever
flood light tunes the face
my open invitation without a cricket’s comprehension of late or early
ankles eaten up with jealousy
but still that gravel crunch activates something
I was breathing to slow something down
bones on the carpet in the dark
we make up such a large vehicle
making wild grape faces while the lake disappears
a precious withholding–that’s not the right word
some peaches from a significant distance
I mean the power is all criss-crossed
no inhale before humming turns to work song again
It’s just the tail-end of worry, a light dust on the wings
now there’s some bursting by a non-producing plant
a few works before last light
or do their bodies extend further
I can’t count the number of times I’ve been the problem, even in a resting state
not everybody’s handwriting is legible from the street
who’s all lit up, a couple rooms deeper in
I’ve been practicing as much as geese know
as much as I haven’t decided to tell it that way
that’s not a color I’ve ever associated with
yellow facade & bluejay accumulating
I dreamed pure density
that the weeping cherry tree wanted us to rearrange its furniture
how else can a rope be mended except in dreams
another dead friend is telling me
to spend the same five minutes every day looking at this brickwork
I’ve never known any of this to require illumination
I think my heart hurts
I think my heart hurts and everything’s set
on low boil high up in the branches
sleepy boys in camo call me doctor
promise to more deeply crank it out
I can only tell which breath ends this sentence
looking through the open flip-flop
of flame
flowering from a place of neutral observation
the prototype folded inward
under hungry bird-weight
the wind picked up without asking about my day
I don’t know the first thing
but I usually fall asleep without any formal training
without any confirmation that this will “take”
morning humidity lights up purr & coo of starlings
someone else employs a jabbing motion
I admire their point–I can imagine watching it on television
wild grapes & low sirens
I have returned to the earth, a seedy insinuation
trying to angle the screen to avoid reflection
it hasn’t been what you’d call a mast year
necklacing song of late cicadas
detritus all around the idea
my posture a little off-key
until I’ve aggressively retraced
the loop-de-loop
to be a bead on a string
to be an unbroken bone
to be a pale-throated bird moving around
in the zebra grass
that’s a funny way of saying
I am developing quite an appetite
orthodox bells pulled around the corner
tenor of a twelve-foot ladder
a second bloom
when we weren’t able to sleep
a resting bench a little off-kilter
a list of things that we know
are returning to the earth
every celestial event I’ve ever slept through
is definitely over but embedded somewhere
focusing on those wing shadows
helps me complete the next sentence
Jen Tynes lives in Michigan and is the author of Hunter Monies (Black Radish Press), Trick Rider (Trembling Pillow Press), Heron/Girlfriend (Coconut Books), and The End of Rude Handles (Red Morning Press) and about a dozen chapbooks. She is the founding editor of Horse Less Press and The Magnificent Field.
