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
ceiling
Viridian
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
Har!d
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
spare
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
hole
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
neck
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
ring
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.