this our muscled temperatures:
full of blooddrunk heat, the ember swollen with the memory of crumpled paper
its tightknit fortitude its effortless combustion to be warmed by such destruction by such insistence the ember purpling
the memory of its compressed body twisting into such alive tendernesses such
simmering whiteness absolute caught heat in its own throat & this is the riddle the possibility of expansion
with temperature with its own feathering forces
the collaboration of compression & a drastic swath of air swarming burn & unburn & what
fundamental collusion this is the riddle hands tearing sheets
into heat into new devastating bodies lifespan coiled among pockets of
air
& feathering the heat
makes these new devastating whispers or
this is the riddle
the twig is not a twig but a danger
a decision
let’s eat the fire until we’ve unfurled ourselves into ourselves our
sweltering persistences
if you want to build a body then
burn it
