[sack for PICTS]

i make signs everywhere, with sticks, stones and leaves for those in the clouds from below the line to arrive i don’t have a language to speak to you with, my tongues are all fish i know that a one is a circle, and that nothing is round, except every corner i saw by the hearts lined up on the spine i know that the winter will finally be here again, and that the summer will die and be born with its ice i unravel the token you gave me for freedom, i bury the flags in your eyes under each Arabic sign. . . 1,2,3, on and on. . . and before i varnish again all the battle grounds freed          to travel the face of 2 yews i remake every button with children put down by 5 tons of your crosses i am flaking with crust at the dangling ushers        they fall for light signs i make my car shake with my fear, the headlights are showing me songs by the road for the now disappeared, shots crack by the ones that remain i can tell by your lies and your pride that your heart is as small as your pupils opening up for your strokes and getting smaller for light i am the siphon that gravity fills up the blanks in your face with i sing a throat full of gritos, for the safety releases that shots spill for you i salivate for your spiraling warmth, in the morning when i collapse, over and over i have all our love letters taped to the ceiling, my sleep is the end of our flies their warbles keep rolling i double the maps on your roads i put a slab of meat on your cheeks i thaw every word that pours ends through your blood i turn in the hair that your father hung with, erasers ring mountains for more i pick up a chair for the lightning, satellites put out a bead i bleed in the real that you see with a shine, pieces of chicken pile up to count nukes i tear off the rain, and cut its numerical age into passing truck tombs i force your faces to mine, and bother your ebony whirls to circle the holes in the sky i fire electrons to make your promise discard its word, and fall through i tie miseries to drains, and pay off my debt with suns i am more cruel than a counter i pick a safe with your words, until my distance is short i slap at your monthly returns, and tie your animals to 5 dirt seas i ride through your roads in the glass, and steal tiny cracks i blame the small stone       hid       in my colorless mouth, and pin rags to your lips i volunteer for your wars, and lose them all i borrow your daydreams, and purse up their gardens, into our hands i pulse with you standing by rocks i say all you said by the iron door i throw kites in the room where they found me i sell off inseparable fingers i throw windows to walls i whispers hard rings into telephones, and scratch at the bed i fade into water i remember the hands i open holes through barbed houses i blow darts through your tunnels and doors i pile roofs through our wounds i move through your runs and your screens i see the news in the sand i digit up noontimes i peel off my skins with old sounds i walk through the valley of lead i unplug your pages of light i frost over programs and ride            3 roads on 5 deer