A rumpled sheet

of brown paper

about the length

and apparent bulk

of a man was

rolling with the

wind slowly over

and over in

the street as

a car drove down

upon it and

crushed it to

the ground. Unlike

a man it rose

again rolling

with the wind over

and over to be as

it was before.

IO spills

on desert like a spoon of cold blood

where the mighty auroch graze at her big white stain

IO touches

her tongue to god’s

through a priceless gauze. he likes this

IO of the

the abomasum and scur. the king of egypt

bathes in rosewater for her

IO - a portrait

by Gerhard Richter: haptic rosettes

of cardinal blue / fog in the Strait of Istanbul / horn-cooped moon

IO can’t concentrate

for the gadfly stings. her temperament is assumed

to be multidimensional. she has, after all, such human eyes.