sky is germanic
and my white skin stinks of kafka
the tree trunks, the birds -ch
-tz and -ö
my syllables are pinched
my legs are disgusting twigs
that flickle like a dead daddy long legs, a fingerbone pylon under the weight of snow – with pine cracks
a time lapse of swiss army knives that sprung metallically
kalashnikovs in ukraine.
riotous teeth, like ukraine,
pointed to a penknife tip that is resinous and rusty like
a stringy kalashnikov in ukraine
there is no self obsession in this weather i can’t maintain my health and my lips crack my six jointed
necks crack my ear drums crack i am a beetle that waited eighteen years to roll off it’s back i am not
vain i am not vein i am not vein.