barber on [] island

(1) 

cut your hair killdeerskin 
…………..child 
EXODY THE BODY close your 
eyes it’s…………i-i-i-EYE my friend & not 
…………the halo & its dried clay 
sub-merging totality into 
………….. ……….fracture ; oneness 
in GREETINGS , CONTINGENCY 
of my sex taking ……….off the veer 
………….. that of which periphery is made 
when i embody change & not flesh am i 
unhumaning ………….. myself? 
………….. ………. a question mark 
is the most transsexual punctuation 
………….. oh get rid 
of those bangs i have nightmares 
afternoonly 

(2) 

When a man dies you can’t quite prove it. 
Death is not a clinical thing. 
To what extent does breath constitute a life epitomized? 
When I died I was more alive than ever. 
No commas. 

(3) 

I KNOW DUST DOESN’T REALLY HAVE WINGS but dust in the air is not dust
……..on the ground we have to have a name for it a name inaugurates meaning
………….. inaugurates existence & we can’t just ignore dust that recognizes you
………….. ……. & not your shoe sole 

(4)

so i propose doing away with names if any so nothing can ever get its 
existence enacted & then all of us will have circles cut around us by invisible 

scissors & that way the entire paper will disappear every cutout will takeover
nonexistence will be made legislature & we will eat so well even in the winter
because we are rendered dead by laws of the universe i.e. conventional logic *i* 

am already dead anyways i use the word dead because i am not dead but is
there any word for self-imposed self-death creating self-life halfway into your breathing
i am dead in a way that matters so very much 

(5) 

On [] island there’s a barber. I dreamed of him. I made him cut my hair.

—t.r. san (The Dawn Review)

Close