tell mine
mine the single digit of the world
for the god hold splintered
into many tiny religions
objects tell
a soul the sacrum of your poem
yr palm
the ancient one
you wrote with your wind pen
in the trees when both you and the trees were very old
tell the spirits
that swam down yr wind throat
that swam in yr darkness
toward the mythical number three
the three of souls
subjected to this sole encounter
or none
at the senior center of all holy
rolling
nothing
let me object it
to you through it
will tell it will
tell me one in a whisper
whose soul
purpose
who's soul purposeful
proposed or by accident
tell me
tell me so my lonely
lonely
lonely
lonely
garden grows
.
COUNTING DOWN, by Mel Elberg
when you were just a little dream in my belly
a little tick in my eyebrow lid
when I was just a baby
and cold when I was just a bitch
with my basket
browsing my godsister's basement
Reading solely Plath
and trash magazines and girlies faces
after I made them laugh thirteen
attempting to gauge an eyelash's propensity
towards lesbianism experimenting
with building sentences devoid of negation
existing only in a full grown glowing visions
how can you love me
how can you love me when I am only
one
figure in the long and toxic number of humanity
two legs in the sand
to ride in this heavy metal earth machine
that yellow fucks / why / that blue green easy
engine purring / Zzzzz
before it was just a stone in my periphery
before we was just a sad lottery
now I am ticketed
now I am the actual speed limit
only air can pass me unflinchingly
one hundred thousand hummingbirds
per one square in the circle memory
fraught I loved somebody
fraught I carried by humming
now I am at the bottom
of the zero positively
dragging my feet to the party