Trevino L. Brings Plenty

Small red tin box sealed in shrink-wrap, cut open with pocketknife, pried apart, its goods aerate the office. I pluck white sliced chalky cylinders; let them simmer in my mouth. I exhale peppermint scent through my nose. Cut open the official letter. A map in letters on a white page. My teeth grind mints. Photocopies slightly off alignment, I blur lines. Equations disperse family through land documents, position each generation. I am only fourth in line. Some plots are gumbo after winter thaw. Sections stitched together with extended relatives. This ritual, personal death papers drafted. I am partial to this grassland; the place of deer marks and porcupine quills, ledger extrapolates history. I refold estate document, place it back into its envelope.

Can’t hear things well if they are things whispering. Nothing gentle to hand on back of hand. A horsehair bow across gut string. A heart is a physical object singing in the chest. Chamber doors oxygenating blood rushing through. Salmon through river climb. When one writes of light as a painted smile across face. You call bullshit to the interpretation. A post re-posted significant meme image locked to words. Speak of Soul? Sounds like a grifter’s hustle. Don’t do it. Anyways, you try to place yourself into the nature poetry experience. In your nature placement, you’re constantly thinking of how you don’t like to shit outdoors. You like a toilet throne and a stall and toilet tissue. Your mind ruins beautiful poetry expressions by expressions before a flush. Yes, if you see a nature painting you ponder a spot to express self. Think of hole digging and burial afterward. A courtesy thing. Some mass crushing flowers. Or smeared across a granite slope. Is not a waterfall one constant flush? You mean, if you were to see this world through black-light vision, knowing everything covered in shit , this planet would be a beautiful glow.

Chorus rumbles constant throughout night storied roots curl around obsidian arrowhead dissolved into shaft groove you unbuckle the stems from your leg Coda’s systemic sameness & design monsoon shovels clay onto hand pushes up arm, pericardial shift dams its build you prostrate in an office chair Massacre song foundation roll fields hypoxic grasses scribe a hill slope horripilation a pronghorn horns the air stirs skin cells Unpeel bison hide bundle piece stem into its chamber pillar a room with red cedar smoke Confusion forms to recall its palms air push different if not warranted you hear only past reflections bounce off the keystone surface: a beast skips on a butte thrown across a wheeling prairie oak shadow outline casts to your interior walls angled from captured leaf veins Unmoved trailer homes center scene cottonwoods bend your head you thumb forward then walk