shy cabbage
ELECTRIC LOTUS / INCENDIUM RADICAL LIBRARY / 2019
I stitch my tongue to a lotus cabbage head.
I stunt my growth by applying powder to my amnesia
it sticks to my eye like a flowering gramophone.
it is not that I can’t speak.
in my past life as a teacher, I cut off my own head with a handmade instrument to give to the people of the swan. now, my ring finger wriggles between the lips of a carnivorous फूल.
a pink circle on my left wrist represents the way my blood turns to cotton when my mouth is absent. I trust the feeling of yellow and other incarnations of the Sun.
I play a melodica to my reflection and my reflection does not play back because my reflection is not a loop machine, it is a time machine.
it is not that I can’t speak.
it is that expression in the face of a cabbage is shy.
there is a text stitched to my tongue which reads:
the birth of the saint happened on my skull
the birth of the saint happened on my skull
there is a text stitched to my tongue which reads:
a sacrifice made for me is stitched like a curtain
my growth is stunted by sea major.