upcoming reading in brookline, mass.

narcissus of the americas

the american spine twists pole to pole
a people who can't stand straight

we piss on our own knee
because we're lost
and don't know
where to turn

we spit and cum
all over ourselves
like maples
in augustan majesty

our islands are awash
in coldsweats and fire
and lepers know something
of our contiguous identity

how every knuckle
has its own insulation
every limb a foreign tongue
to interpret the single fault

pumping blood
to the extremities
the music of oil in the ligaments
and birds rushing out to sea