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"Fleeces of Roses" by Kai Ihns

Residue of blue i am screaming

My jaw will not shut on its own

How strange

Maybe there

is a problem

It over there is like a vitrine



Green glass roof

like trains go beneath it

The ground is a sucking motion

It can access

My legs

Hilariously, each moment I am at

the ceiling

The ceiling is a pale, vertiginous green

I hit it hard each time


I am a dumb kite slamming the ceiling With my tattery wet! Bag!

Because the string goes up


the geyser the geyser then the rock cap now now the ceiling The string goes up the ceiling

In the kluft they are sweeping with rainbows

on the other end is the end

on the other end is the cloud, Sweeping through the Front Pane

In fact it is steam

It is just rising


He is on the ground he has nothing to


He is yellow wet formica goo

In a hat

He appears to be stuck to the dirt tuft where he is

His eye is a blue pin


Dark blue

He appears to be stuck

Do you want to go back and lay in your

Red bag

He does not

He is stuck he is laughing he likes it He is a lint on a lint screen

wetter He

is a bondo mulch foam interior

goo tendril And a rainbow

stone !

Chased without stop by lights across it

Floating in the cool loop of his rib cage head

His head head hangs like a last blue berry

on a dry stalk


the fine fox of the will is beating

on his fence

sucking bricks

did you see god up there no, just math cathedral

made of trees i saw a branch which did not end and

became another branch and variously, the mosses

make a radiating ring of dart

on the earth there is the tree which extends through it

o i have no problem with it

it is not conceivable to have a problem

my lungs are hot and swimming so i

move them

to keep the lamp on i understand

i must periodically support the leg-based circulation

feathery, opening and closing like a

shutter in my


who i throw them through

the echo, the questions

Hello, Hello, I know Who you Are

You, green book writ on your every angle!

you should take care as long as you want

to stay

fleeces of roses

swimming iridescent patched

radio that

even the grass is! and! the leaves!

It is reaching through an open air

who retains its pulse and throws and throws

a tunnel of dimensional


then the sun is coming down tremendously still

like chimes and feathery it’s mercy it’s

early its mercy is early my eyes are a tear field

streaming radiation chyme radiating white chyme

Bless all life which is blind and ends

Bless all life which is feathery

(Kirsten) Kai Ihns is a poet and filmmaker finishing up her PhD at UChicago, where she studies contemporary experimental poetry and film, and works as an editor. She lives in Chicago.

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