we put the onion rings on our fingers
in preparation for our favorite circle.
i said, "will you marry me?"
to the 1/2 mile track loop 
in my own chest. round & again.
take a new obit to the basement today.
my office building became 
a beach ball & had a much better 
rest of their existence. my neighbors too.
i noticed they used to have
such smart & deliberate angles.
now, given in to bubble & wave,
they don't do much but snort 
at passersby. it's hard not to be 
a tourist anymore. just yesterday 
i found the gift shop in my own kitchen
& bought a little baggie of smooth rocks.
there's not much to be done about
biting your own tail. it's there
& if you don't do it no one will.
then how will you remember your body?
self injury is a tactile guidebook.
i dog ear each page because they all
seem important. what i mean to say is
to keep going is to swallow 
your father's wedding band. i can press
on my sternum & feel it just beneath 
the surface. oh my little ring. 
my little "again." how am i going
to make it through a whole week 
without wearing your mouth?
i put a turnicate on the wound.
blood goes purple & violet. 
name a flower that doesn't grow
in a perfect circle. mushroom halos.
the ship's porthole (not to be mistaken
for portal). my extra set
of glass eyes are a richer deeper brown.
the brown of bear hearts & dead grass.
keep me in your thoughts
when you make a hard left. 
don't worry too much about 
distrupting the world order. 
i need a little more distruption.
lets float & stare down at glass milk bottles.
choose one to plummet inside.
hang out plumage out to dry.
spit the blood out in the compost pile
to ensure no round offspring. 
fruit swelling on the branches.
perfect circle plums. finger to their skin.
"calm down little seeds. relax." 

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