“Yes, I am a corpse flower”
1.
After sitting us down
explaining myself
the rules and regulations
you don’t understand you sweat
out an endless salt
of questions I arrange
the salt on the fields
and in the famine
you echo
this is the meat
this is your meat
I meatless and you
meaty and I meaty
and you meatless and
if I was meant
to be a plant
a divine oopsie-daisy
would I instead secrete
secrets in multicolored
omnivectored roots
that bend fashionably
as if a wrist
my plant language seeping
through soil spreading
gossip the language of
survival sal/i/vation
the deer
the birds
the lonely men
speaking to all who
can hear my roots
their subtle vibrations
a network of
networked limns
limn me,
limn me!
a network of
oopsie-daisies
we interpollinate
perpetually
2.
What does it mean to
personify you
body
a plant
dutifully watered
3.
All that glitters is me resonant
reverberations are me my
shimmer
a shimmy-me-timbers
in the bed!
Hey man, do you want my
Me?
Yes, I’m a corpse flower
Yes, I’m a rot in a bag
Yes, I’m
My femmebot icequeer heart of
none-stone hard
of hearting
My arousal is circuitry
My emotions is circuitry
My nerves is circuitry
My me is my wirestem thrumming
My well-oiled cunt brings all the ravenous insects to the yard, their beards untrimmed, their cocks swinging.
One asks if he can wax my chassis. He chuckles, looks around. I say yes. I say yes please. I say please.
He waxes my chassis. He wanes my rest.
4.
Always so
marginal
refusing to
take
space &
unable to center
itself not sure how
to say in
terms I’ll
understand
I can’t recall if
language can
cross the blood
brain barrier
I mean
the tongue doesn’t
bend that way
I mean
is there a somatic
intervention for this
I mean
is I the corpse flower
or is the corpse flower me?
