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e visceral
by Jason Christie
 
1.
Today.
Damp weather.
Bones ache
from wet wool sweater.
There is an er, a heart,
and cold, some air, the sun
leaves the day freezing into a night.
2.
The language as it snows again.
 
Boost your credit rating.
Consolidate your debts.
Buy now and get 10 free.
Flowers and candy for the
sweetheart with a sweet tooth.
 
Blood in your arms. Pink knots of leg muscles 
tense. Inside lungs, tiny 
alveoli, thin sacs expand
and contract with each breath,
oxygenated blood streams away.
 
20% down, and 50% off.
Limited time offer.
Ultimate blowout sale.
 
Imagine bones, the marrow
a sort of spongy purple substance, creating
millions of cells every second.
Liquidation event of the century.
Just do it.
 
That tangled grey mess
under the skull. So full of neurons,
electrolytes, like a sidewalk downtown,
at five-thirty. Electricity.
 
Buy now, buy for less.
Noooooooooooooooo
body.
Improve your love life...
 
These all and only in memory.
 
3.
 
The sentence alone.
Ha
d
eve
n
the words go
what order
hides is
gravity
this visceral
severed
incapacitate
to
have
what hides
is order
language addict
function without
pain with
manifestation
in large social gatherings
inchoate
a cloud of useless words
over the heads of crowds
when we start to dup
licate
chains in mimesis
clouds swing against the breeze
today it is cold and wet
a rare
day
the sun
overcast
we can’t speak and
we have to