Melkman:

Miss America is an idea, not
a dream. To convince
must first draw it out (the screaming/
sighs/quiet console).

Have you spoken
yet with the council? Their
alphabet won't suck it
from you, even
if you don't; though

there was a man with a
gun last
night on the
street
by your apartment.

And he's taking the melk
and the money. Where
did you meet him?

cuts are scratches

and scratches are cuts

cuts cuts cuts cuts

cuts cuts cuts

Yes yes

it's the about me section

Dripping - gigantic

how many times do i have to
--god it ///and the loud
ways we break ourselves-//tipping

tip -mistakes were from
---- small lines broken what
had we done /what were we
doing/without--what

the dashes
the form in each
letter

To Thinking --

Like a cult in a car wash you drink
wax and foam - suck up sponge
liquid - slowly dry. These unsettling
stomachs breathe something
like roadkill. Not at all
anniversaries. No rings,
no phones.

When the clock strikes,
hours of minutes from now,
the reverberations carry a ring
through the puncture wound

in your ear drum
all through your head

till the ring settles down on the stomach's
floor. On the floor
is a tiny excuse to be bitten
by bugs or to bite that claimant
in the cloth - there's a lesson
to wring out these clothes. To ring
the sound further away and to
boomerang.

It's the seething

that's important. And also massages. Make sure you know
how to move your hands.