by Stacy Doris

    If people could feed on themselves which they can， whether in despair or

    Pride， time becomes a circulation， reduced and expanded to that， imitating

    Digestion. Ingesting decomposes any scrap into functions， whereas eating

    Something other than yourself disprove wholeness. What rewards

    Rewording might be justice. Then does response outrun responsibility，

    Overthrow it， so all government's automatic， total， a model of control based

    On nature？ If retribution's normal， rule's always enforcing， twisted and

    Abstract： flexed. Then days are contaminated by law， and life's a code，

    Dead yet lethal. Even putrefaction would be saturated thus： the severed

    Hand molder on schedule.

    Perhaps in this way all living's starvation， programmed to regurgitate itself，

    So cutting off supplies would free， while goods stifle. Thus the excuse

    That oneness means bodiless， that what has parts is too bulky for unity.

    Indivisible then implies a corpus subtracted， or， origin in amputation. Any

    Bomb curls back on its unleashing， so mirrors cause and denies effect.

    So repeats； is a refrain. Like all waves， destruction won't break. If so，

    Nobody needs to be alive to go on. State equals machine， but runs only

    By crashing. Each project attacks what may be in place with the corrosive

    Burn of potential. Passivity's the only order： ordains. But breathing counts

    Down. Each movement of respiration encodes terror， which flourishes in

    Everyone thus， in the midst of hunger and abundance， in the speed of love.

    No tourniquet dispels it.