Three Texts

Daniel Spinks

PowerPoint Your Desire Into A Less Problematic Fluid!…

Stop writing my poem

Today we have wrists

Choke out the rusted fruit
Bury them next to us in our yard

The joke about cake and penis

Veins the size of seven needles

O Hosanna!

The slide of Christ is magnified 10x for your convenience
Wipe your eyes with the oils you've collected

Conflicting diets can be made to cancel each other out
Just don't go too far or run the risk of cannibalization
That excitement of being human

…

Stop writing my poem. A face without cysts. So
count the crust and move.

Hurry your legs to us.

Enter hard
the joke about cock and clean us.

Remains the size of leavened angels. O Hosanna!
The life of Christ is sanctified in times before He leaves us.

Why put your eyes with the boils you've neglected. Inflicting riots
can behave to cancer. Heat. Just arouse us.

Drunk odes to fine arms. Surround the wrist of a cannibal. His aching.
The excised meat of being human.

…

Stop writing my poem. Efface without risks. Soak out the rust
and move her real legs. Do us in too hard.
To choke on bad chalk and cleaners.

He raised insides of laughing angels.

O Hosanna! The bride of Christ is safe to hide in tithes.
Before He leaves us why shut your eyes. With the coils you’ve inspected

uplifting bias can be made to advance her heat. Judge around us drunk goats
to find our hymns. Around the breasts. And a cannibal escaping.
The indictment of being human.

…

stop writing my poem a vase we thought rests

oh gather us in movie-reel acts due west in due art

the choking by jaw can glean us He razed the sides

of lagging hanged jowls O Hossana! the price of Christ

is made too high He dies before He sees us why shout

your eyes lick the coals you’ve infected a blessed thing

why us can’t we mean to have answer each edge around

a strung host divine or harms a gown to rest on a can and piss

His gaping the insides meant our being human

...

I am naked on the futon eating string cheese

You are not naked on the futon eating string cheese. You are out buying orthotics. I think your overpronation is sexy. But not too sexy. Let's not get carried away. I have ingested seven grams of protein. My debit card feels like a deadly slice of blowfish. It is leaking something into my wallet. I throw the wallet away. I'm tired of this shit. Isn't that what people say. I never forgave you for surviving that tornado. How can I express this in a greeting card. The ratio of animal protein to soy protein is probably too high. You are at risk for dementia. Sometimes I want to blurt it out when we're babysitting the twins across the street. They won't feel sorry for you. They are four. They have all the time in the world. When they touch something sharp, it still fucking hurts. Please hurry home.

Last

Delete my fiction. It never held.
It embarrasses your sister I am in love with.
We will never hold.
Her hands deleted in my dreams the eyes I had closed.
Her eyes dreamt the hands I closed with hands.
And hands of her arms burst splinters at regular intervals over the eyes she peeled like
grapes.
She gave the oranges up you wouldn't leave alone.
To spit pulp on a splinter our arms were never naked.
I needed a sister you never held. Deleted. Like that.