Tim Davis

'Centered non-event'

i'm not home right now, howing
furrows up
myshkin's junkmail
cold medicine in the doorbell hole
let us go then
end this sentence
could say
episteme off
men butt heads
among reduncancies
as the visual world has finished pissing, it's
now safe to say

a covert sensation
where once were one-to-ones
quit aping pathogens
the heart's four cameras
load with nothingness and blood
take a few minutes, quaking

i pretty much think
of all the intact blisters to have come away with
families surviving by redeeming empties
make the oilcan of sky a wave machine
no image, presto!
but a bucketful of greater thans in baggies