maybe there’s a tip to
my tongue
that i never
knew existed
that i never
knew i could believe in
that i never

and i never.

my whole body is shuddering
and not in ecstacy
but not in disgust

never disguise
these tips
these little nothings
answering nonsense
to the sacrificed questions
lurking beneath
and
i
was
or
wasn’t
or
never heard an angle
to the subject
beside the pool
table rounding
out in aliteration.

who are you tip?

you are you tip?

bringing these numbered
balls towards my lips
and squirreling them
towards pockets of
nowhere between
sips and smokes
like a cat
cleaning green
fur
over a forgotten plane
of astral
australian a go go
go go
go go
g og o

highlights.
just enough to pretend you can taste
but not enough to silvery moon.

aloo.
m.

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