One limb for each event           the    sentimental      globe        galvanizes      nowhere     man     who   steps   and   hits     and     rubs      and        wiggles      like      no    other        all     at     once     I     knew            won’t   be  too   late      to   hallelujah       in        a double    German    accept       the    dictatorship       has    a   knack      for    radical     determinism       that     way       won’t     ever    be      too       late        to       slur        the        whimper    or    say    dour    and     mean          redolent    of       how     when    it     enters     flesh      the    branding    iron     has     legs    and  walks       the     stammering    skin      into       submission           Thembi     and      embers        remember    the    charts       of           flutes      delivered      to    pacifists   and    herders       who    use     them      to    laugh     a    little        fixed   tilt       eradicate      Milton    for       someone      on    pills    and     parole      much    to    her     peril          she  loves         the   carceral    shape   of        pharaohs       in       the   shoulder        is         a    lush       for    blushing     lacerations    that  bubble     like      winded     flags            or    the   slow-motion      depression     bellies       there      were    so   many  depleted    ways       to     grow        initial     this         scissors      to   the   wrists       erotic      tickle    of   sharp   on   tender          and     came    to    want     the   iron    as      a  trace      of       walking   through    fire     or   being          pulled      by       the   ear        toward   belief        in      the   power      and      delirium      of      scars          as      they    disappear                
