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1: a branch of morphology that deals with the structure of organisms
how to build a home
of identical red scaled roofs —
homeowner’s serpent
swallowing sounds
of mismatched bricks and cartoon walls covering
jelly beans spread on a child’s lap
how does she sort out the saccharine pebbles?
sweet ribbon scarlet
of a blood that pumps in her heart but
my blood swirls gold and green with
a chokable envy
for a world that regards more than
silky dark strands
strangling
a model esophagus
I cannot stay silent
as she pushes my burnt bones and gray lungs into opposite piles
sinewy muscle
screaming
& conquered
it is all she has ever learned
my blue dopamine the same shade
as an aching rafter that forgets to smile
at the machine who decides
which trees and fingers make a home
bestowing acid stained labels
permanent ink
a charcoal black
of burning beams drumming on an earth and
virgin pupils that absorb
all the colors of the rainbow but
dear child, there are more colors than you could ever know
a body is a home
a body is a home
a stomach is a container
a heart is a container
a brain is a computer
a hearth is a container
the color of my veins and your leathered rug
post-Darwinian
sees little difference
evolution brings the best of saturation
how do I make my mountains?
shatter me, so that I may speak
a pile for the family spirits of oaks
a pile for the shells that carry a whale’s carcass
a pile for a love that smiles from the chest to the
shoulder
red, blue, black
all the same to be devoured
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2 : a treatise on anatomical science or art
you view the body as
a work of art
but not ones
that look like mine
do not hesitate
your blade
my skin
too thick
afraid to discover
the palette of my organs
dig your fingers in a little further
can you feel the wetness of my lungs
they carry the breaths of an entire earth
circulating stories through river and rainfall
squeeze the walls of my heart
there is a landscape of a utopia
you have never known such
attention to a stranger’s laughter
the tears of a long day
communion with the passing squirrel
the gift of time
it does not shine with promised gold
but glows with a warmth of understanding
it is okay
put down your scalpel
pick up the brush
did you find what you were looking for?
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3 : the art of separating the parts of an organism in order to ascertain their position, relations, structure, and function
position
I sit upon shards of constellations
Andromeda’s chains heavy on the shoulders
sagging into the flesh of the moon
her grandchildren born of heroes
pulled by the barks of her tide
look to the Cowherd and the Weaving Maid
a mother’s love like a dagger
trading obedience for a life
Anubis’ scale holds no weight
slip, slide, crash against the heavens
dance freely upon his scales
my story is restricted by no myths
no god of can hold me to their underworld
so I write,
and never stop
relation
I hold a little secret in my pocket
kept hidden from even the watchful Fates
collecting weathered strings of lives
already forfeited
dyed crimson from the battlefield
I hold a frayed red string
slipping between ghostly feet
my theft from Zeus brought to Yuè Lǎo
binding souls with one that was lost
I hold your heart
a whisper under the moon goddess
invisible string transcending time
even the Fates cannot sever with their callous shears
the fate of butterfly lovers
structure
a hero’s journey ever unending
unknown becoming known
what does he see in the growling abyss?
or does it stare back at him, silent
call to adventure — he needs a friend
he needs a mentor
he needs a guide
he needs a shoulder
a story carried by more than one
never ends
function
the magnetic metaphor
only knows how to question
she hides and disguises and asks
who are you and what are you?
why do you need me here?
a metaphor is a body
who’s caress carries a comforting pinch
tell me the tale of Perseus again
so that I may mourn for Medusa
head on a shield she asks
how do we live?
how do we live together?