Stacy Szymaszek

water relives reservoir boat bottom draft displaced ° lineal thought backward body no one knows the brains I am now tree an oar origin joints ruptured soak in deep ink ° wallpaper remnant flower float chandelier brief case hundred words logged erode my Arabic congestion of resin person forecasts final position restless sleep ° width of back belted sodium poultice exhausts courtship agora drain a home of you wind lashes fronds cellophane ° where a mammal bled activity not yet diffused blackened patch of water weight of oyster in gloved hand he shucks dented pewter ° assonance her aspect relocated wind shatters plexi phenomena foregone for me shift at oars new muscle grown bone never held you ° case of dried apricot gorge I am summoned capable a day outlast forecast coral reef feeler ° paper cover mallet awl downfall fire- box androgyne

defunct list of common names proxy for the bearer nor’wester buffets gear reach into our canisters “Cassirer” drawn and sewn into my lapels assembly of illegal men peril will not know two Roman slaves rain the rage passes through our teeth into interior pneumatic doors my evening of moniker stamped upon boxes of envelopes blank ledger for you “Macquin” with tin and amber stockpiled you prince

She wakes up in the afterlife in a fog. Unaware that she had an enemy, she was unprepared when the villain approached to deliver a fatal head injury. Part of her soul is stuck in her tomb, but as is common, it has a fake door where intercourse can occur, while another part of her soul begins a new adventure in form and in name. Always a reticent young woman, in premature death her speech-producing anatomy becomes irrepressible as she tries to render her circumstance comprehensible.

my pastoral  : four panels of perpetual man and dog concealed within march grass wild acre of strong necks over there   evening’s plate of dark meat synchronized release of feet let me also replicate the spring-loaded as my toilette used against me was pin weaponry there is an exercise I know by heart (the brain) clench the antlers of a stag move some air through my vein

he ceased to exist as          a boy became          an appellation filed away          embedded hairs of a chin now hearsay of          hyperglossia my eyes are dyed blue my breast plate protects a spool   adversary’s nail was lodged in my skull       these roots       won’t work said the cook          changed the valance          spooked form of panther ran

one sketch of the stormy petrel one set of clothes not to be worn during the voyage one log of the harm that came you miss a man so much music for Haul On the Bowline slop chest small stuff prayer book Green- lander with a stitch through his nose coin in his mouth his custody broken holy stone at feet sailmaker stitches you inside a sail last to touch your craft slipped starboard pig on foot does no good to stay afloat to assure identity one pot of ink one paragraph on a miscellaneous custom quit the American shore quit the shore of Green- land miss a man pot of wood ash box of blank cards beef bone sculpture deducted form wages what you bid seldom mentioned in leisure his form forecastle slip cliché poor guy . . . the oath and the laugh boom skylark flicks a card in another’s face