velma

I love this name
it's like velvet
it's like crushing old
it's so labial
elllmmm
elllmmmm
it is my mother's mother's name
it's Kyle's mother's mother's name, too
it's the answer to some official security question we have in common
I never met her, Velma Sullivan
she died in her early 40s of lung cancer
my uncle had just joined the mormon church
& he wanted to convert her
in her dying hospitalroom
which pissed her off
and it pissed my mom off, too
my uncle's wife and some of his daughters just recently left the church
the wife left her husband
and probably some of her family, too
which probably fucked up the family band they all played in
no more angelic female vocals
no more angelic female fluting
all that's left is an acoustic guitar and some manly drumming, I'd guess
I don't know if Kyle knows his Velma
but I'm jealous, if he does
but I guess we'll probably have a daughter one day
and we'll name her after them

shone me something

squinty little eyes on the shine, in that shine. 

my face is turning, growing into something

it's a little destruction planet. 

I blow out my teeth with my words

the words trip out my throat & 

the words tongue my tongue.

the sun tongues me

and my teeth explode 

and I gum the words for the rest of time

and there are palatal licks of sound

and alveolar outbursts

and labial laments.

but those dentals be damned, a toothless attempt

at getting across any desperate points

metalepsis

So all that's left is the voiceless acceptance

the gutterally giving in

the fricitive finality.

Take my words but

spare my sight. I want to die with memories in me

of the very things words don't do

glitter

glow

gush

weep

words might, but sight happens better,

how would they ever catch up