Donegal 2006 // dried herb and incense on counter top /// cradle in the corner & crack
overhead, larvae sleeping in eye of the hole of the crack -
of the wall, solitary /// mothers
the herb and incense
lay dormant for months no word exchange no labored breath // between / occupation intrinsic in the ///
Hiberno-English dialogue // inherited by
mothers // the apotropaic magpie salutation of speaking English
a supposed hybrid language /// the borders assimilated, //
as the biophiliac synchronicity / of two
wombs /// pods, as the larvae ////
without cable or fiber optic / emerging from some room /// without ogive or industry /// just two bodies - //// conjoined through /// lunar phase & pheromone //// sheela na gig,
-shaped hole and multitudinous eggs
from the sap //// outgrowing themselves, /// currents pass
wild tides aborted out of the Atlantic // windowed, out of reach /// from the boreen to our narrow plane of ///
domesticity //// inhabited by currents of the /// fiber optics and landlines //// mothers //// to menstruate at 40


// and so but well
somewhere Oneida, NY /// 2018 ///
plasma seeps from blood-brain barrier into the gyri cracks of pavement, the epilogue //// Anthropocene self-cannibalization // no sacred ground exists anymore /// crushed skull pavement,
// for carrion //// no fertility rites or veneration, /// for the dog-piss fragranced exit wounds of // carrion flesh matter particulates leeching into the drain, ///
no fertility ritual arises from /// the self, ///
// under this administration. //// shotgun mounted above the mantlepiece decorated in // Polaroids of //// his children and his wife and //// deer antlers and fawn corpse in the fridge ///
and his head bowed the fascist-evangelical /// his fascia contorted grave-ward /// tended to by mosquitos in heat ///
Fox News still-frame of Tucker Carlson burned into his tv ////
in the microwaved-black-meat-fragranced house /// left sitting out on
counter tops and pulsing beside ovens //// flesh
without pulse /// without life begetting life mere flesh
begets the flesh
not cyclical - the ouroboros type // amalgamation of self
as aborted Christian bodies /// larva - shaped
remnants of what this country /// was supposed to be, ////


and so it goes / i am a 4 year old // Oneida, NY in 2009 /// in the windowless room /// the claustral monastic sensory deprived dark //// of my grandparents living space /// x files emanated /// a glowworm from the CRT
fermi paradox of intercultural hegemony /// here, America they say ‘Alien’ //// that is what borders love and the other /// I am born from a lineage /// of otherness and separateness, I keen /// my late-term whiteness /// but how many lives ///
/// what will later become ICE //// how many lives /// my pastor grandpa’s finances funnel /// the death of babies like me ///// in Afghanistan in Iraq /// in Palestine /// in Iran /// in Syria /// in Pakistan /// in Turkey /// in Libya /// in Yemen //// how many lives
did I take ///

and some American pamphlet in 2020 / reading / ‘PATRIOTIC EDUCATION’ floats through streets and alleyway corridors //// floats alone jellyfish nocturnal, //// passing through hands groping for effigies of some new god //// no cars in ambience, no alarms /// no surprises signals sublimating a cityscape /// just the nightly theremin hum of industrial landscape /////
// a claustral darkness, sensory deprivation /// seemingly distorted through the 35mm film grain of / silence and distance
/// soft eyelids through diasporic fog // experiences only through the windowed /// lens of ideation and // gentle and human keratin-soft in its cold terrestrial, // cerebral hemisphere-planetary touches /// some trace of lineage /// as Christian bodies /// interpose /// street corners, with
prayer /// ‘‘America wasn’t born it was //// formed through abortions of a people and culture, torn’’ ////
how many lives did I take //// by not giving life //// by complicit menstruation ////
as two wombs shed /// simultaneous /// and some dog-fucker / he will say ‘‘No actually’ /// with no womb will never know /// two womb synchronicity / he leeches the stagnant /// 4chan water-supply // the anti pro-natalist ////
as if forcibly dry humping the aftermath,
/// how many lives /// does he take //// with cum dispelled from masturbation allowing no future ///// a death-in-life ///
/// as if dry humping the corpse /// of sincerity & altruism /// of ///
human understanding forgoing to understand //// eugenics type jaw statistics //// rather than the necessity of myth-making, of ////
apotropaic marking or of Wellesly effects
as if // forcibly dry humping the concept
of xx chromosone bodies // as planned obsolescence //// my self-administering / analgesia ///


// in Oneida, NY
2018 /// me in the garden where there exists still // the noumena of night & dream // underneath water elm branch &/ in the garden, with Grandma when unfettered by the temporal cage /// of memory, could
still retain the images of //// solar-generated automatic light ///
the drained pool /// bioluminescent with glowworm & algae /// life,
remember / someday that lived-in hallway this corridor /// this bedroom, a garden i fail // to remember, //// may be /// unfamiliar to her // this hallway, /// this garden someday /// demolished
// but we remember always, /// the way the light/// eventually leaves the window
/// Remember to /
her she will be /// alone
in her / unfamiliarity / (embraced)
traces the tongue of our ancestors //
somewhere now ////
dried lavender dead // leaves on the counter-top, //// retaining life while //// forgoing itself //// a metastasis a /// self-annihilation /// my apparent native, /// Hiberno-English / ‘’bit quare loike y’knoe yourself’’ laboured out of my body as an exit wound to /// assimilate into // in Ireland there is no /// mother // tongue to return to
no confines of mass or tissue, /// no womb for synchronicity
just /// a decidual
cast assemblage of //// what once was, /// but I speak in the dialect babel
of 21st century imperialism


in 2025 /// our collective amnesia, the disfigurement //// of dyschronia /// we slowly fall out of time /// we forget
how many bodies were there, how many /// lives did I take /////
beyond the peripheral ammonia & /// for you pages /// dredged up by human labor /// in Congo /// in China //// in Bangladesh ///// in Mexico /// in India /// in Indonesia /// in Honduras /// in Columbia // in El Salvador
in Turkey /// in Thailand /// in Tunisia /// how many lives
did I take
as the braineating amoeba manifold / rotting between the
/ sulci and gyri
/// of RFK Jr’s
brain // (as animal flesh
between RFK Jr’s teeth) //// is something universal
that //
sick
sick
fuck who will never know

How many lives I take.