for wimps and jerks

tired--this is probably going to be pretty bad.

moth flapping blind against a light.

objectification stretches one out like a raw hide
being pegged down for tanning.
the desire to fulfill all subjecthood, cowled like
a monk, eyes on the ground, heart in alt--
beating like the wings of a bird, spreading itself
on the air, or snapping, desires, like sheets,
attensile in the wind, attensile
against themselves--

this desire appears tenable only in death:
shardel destination snatching flesh out from below skin
and then the skin bound down, or, less, the pitted hand, the
sinking goodbye, the coring of the apple.

but sometimes the object stretches 'round
and can bind herself
down. sometimes. sometimes she stretches in
and patterns on the palm of my hand.