Location Oscillation

each tap of the
finger doesn’t know
exactly where it’s headed until it’s

too late, finding a cave-wall
suddenly protrude from between a sentence
and a newspaper

to tell the I apart
with machete necessity to the front-lawn
limb-by-limb

in the mouth of an oriole, from
a daddy-long-leg
as it swings batter matter made mixtures of

swing-set possibility picture baking teacup toyboat splashes
theory
dashes an ounce of salt per

what
will
seamless
appear
from
nowhere

only

coin flips of the tongue
un-battling
centuries of tied-lies, lips
wobble against
9 grain
oatmeal fused with entertaining neon and her

plethora of previews
flashing before us
in the form of a placenta

it’s hard to laugh
but look
we call that thing
sitting in the driveway
a car

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