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*I asked an AI to write a song about a breakup. This is that song*

Department store mannequins melting during a heatwave, 1929 pic.twitter.com/2mwOgVBUQU

— Melanie Woods (@MelanieWoods65) July 13, 2022

To re-collect is to gather up the remnants of an old cloth, shake off the moths and hair of former companions and wrap it around the shrug of current concerns

Kiss your tired eyes

Fruit is rotting in the fridge

You sleep in your socks

(written by a chatbot)

Thirteen billion years ago two galaxies

kissed each on the napes of their necks

like reuniting grandmas.

We found that bird, neck snapped and bloody on the deck under the window. Towers look like skies. you said gnawing on the end of a bone. The skin is the best part.

I spend my days groping for the latch of a closed door – Henry James

this country is a glamour

imposed upon the forest

I like the idea of limiting the number of words in a poetry collection in the way a painter limits a palette. A vocabulary made of basic words. Words repeating, showing up in multiple poems, shifting in meaning, standing in for complex thoughts, experiences, memories. Private metaphor. Memoir in code.

A spoon, a bird, a pie, a chesterfield.

I 

     peered into the meringue 

      of his 
mouth

stiff peaks         sticky

on my tongue

*experiment with mixing text at Language is a Virus*

you are lollipop

you are sugar

kiss you are

moss you are

the rain has my heaven,

and all this is picture to the rainbow

*using a variety of tools at Language is a Virus*