Anatomy of the Collective
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1: a branch of morphology that deals with the structure of organisms
how to build a home
of identical red scaled roofs —
homeowner's serpent
swallowing sounds
of mismatched bricks and cartoon walls covering
jelly beans spread on a child's lap
how does she sort out the saccharine pebbles?
sweet ribbon scarlet
of a blood that pumps in her heart but
my blood swirls gold and green with
a chokable envy
for a world that regards more than
silky dark strands
strangling
a model esophagus
I cannot stay silent
as she pushes my burnt bones and gray lungs into opposite piles
sinewy muscle
screaming
& conquered
it is all she has ever learned
my blue dopamine the same shade
as an aching rafter that forgets to smile
at the machine who decides
which trees and fingers make a home
bestowing acid stained labels
permanent ink
a charcoal black
of burning beams drumming on an earth and
virgin pupils that absorb
all the colors of the rainbow but
dear child, there are more colors than you could ever know
a body is a home
a body is a home
a stomach is a container
a heart is a container
a brain is a computer
a hearth is a container
the color of my veins and your leathered rug
post-Darwinian
sees little difference
evolution brings the best of saturation
how do I make my mountains?
shatter me, so that I may speak
a pile for the family spirits of oaks
a pile for the shells that carry a whale's carcass
a pile for a love that smiles from the chest to the
shoulder
red, blue, black
all the same to be devoured
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2 : a treatise on anatomical science or art
you view the body as a work of art but not ones that look like mine do not hesitate your blade my skin too thick afraid to discover the palette of my organs dig your fingers in a little further can you feel the wetness of my lungs they carry the breaths of an entire earth circulating stories through river and rainfall squeeze the walls of my heart there is a landscape of a utopia you have never known such attention to a stranger's laughter the tears of a long day communion with the passing squirrel the gift of time it does not shine with promised gold but glows with a warmth of understanding it is okay put down your scalpel pick up the brush did you find what you were looking for?
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3 : the art of separating the parts of an organism in order to ascertain their position, relations, structure, and function
position
I sit upon shards of constellations Andromeda's chains heavy on the shoulders sagging into the flesh of the moon her grandchildren born of heroes pulled by the barks of her tide look to the Cowherd and the Weaving Maid a mother's love like a dagger trading obedience for a life Anubis' scale holds no weight slip, slide, crash against the heavens dance freely upon his scales my story is restricted by no myths no god of can hold me to their underworld so I write, and never stop
relation
I hold a little secret in my pocket kept hidden from even the watchful Fates collecting weathered strings of lives already forfeited dyed crimson from the battlefield I hold a frayed red string slipping between ghostly feet my theft from Zeus brought to Yuè Lǎo binding souls with one that was lost I hold your heart a whisper under the moon goddess invisible string transcending time even the Fates cannot sever with their callous shears the fate of butterfly lovers
structure
a hero's journey ever unending unknown becoming known what does he see in the growling abyss? or does it stare back at him, silent call to adventure — he needs a friend he needs a mentor he needs a guide he needs a shoulder a story carried by more than one never ends
function
the magnetic metaphor only knows how to question she hides and disguises and asks who are you and what are you? why do you need me here? a metaphor is a body who's caress carries a comforting pinch tell me the tale of Perseus again so that I may mourn for Medusa head on a shield she asks how do we live? how do we live together?