Kristin Bradshaw & Cole Heinowitz

Quiet outward

thought a brume aspirates out-words but
not so concretely as it appears. a quiet outward.
hevel: my Qohelet, our calculus adds up to nil and yet there
remains the body recycled perhaps
having overstepped its perimetre and a periphery overstated.

dancer, step into this manhole
brought us together us both inaccurate
floating on crystallized flesh enough to nod and keep walking this line,
letting the dough rise, man and a woman

Alas, macular degeneration—the sacred central axis not even obscured—
rather defunct. surprisingly the peripheral vantage less chaotic
than what had been expected.

a disjunction between the two
sex of the individual organs
such as humiliates transit
between sunny hairs
sprouting out of the motionless
drawback      a shiny grass elbow

I catch myself midstreet and mute
two steps before the curb and gawking at some
momentary altered state and restumble
into a familiar mind      a great part missing.

and drop the pen.

I am of quite the mind that
inattention remains beneficial in these circumstances and drop the pen
to paper and begin to speak

some quiet outward
                                                       of shrouded characters.

I fashion my body into
a dancer
and look
                    so princely,

so ignoble      what brought us together