crownfossil dreamt and in our arms, how do you pronounce dead? how do you eat potato bones? if i spoke string, how much of it would have to be created? laughfossils, ponydrone, give me the least of you. the very least of you. but just enough for fevers. but just enough for a poem. but just enough for this bag of old magnets. their tenderness is salt and flat and dragging us softly against the figure of a storm. this magazine is fine. greetings from the reach house. my name is silvia. i’ll be armed up and peel hearted, fossilcrying. my name is silvia. i’ll be taking your winter mind inside for safekeeping. portrait, you half game of a bird. portrait, you air leash. portrait, my name is silvia. every last boiled rip in the drawer or paisley breakers cracking in the wet surf, grapesleeper. do you have peas and slap eyes down on the hopelessly blessed lox of me? did you put paste mermaids on the hull of the seed? i would’ve. i would’ve taken them to the center of a pear’s wrist with me. to the place where you lay on your back and point. wouldn’t the cream shake us in its beak? wouldn’t the wisdom outside be full of small crushed bones? let’s not forget that if one bulb pops then the muscle goes limp. these shoots are barely here. these shoots are loose crowns protecting your head. umbrellas in other parts of the world flip over the sand. i thought the ground had disappeared. so much water surrounds my dreams about pavement skeletons. so much wind gets eaten or taken apart and left to die in the mailbox. where are you? you always feel like a shorn piece of flower in a cup to me. i don’t know what that means except that i can’t call you from the jut of this cliff softener. i can’t

                                                                                                         go window dressing without my lips
having been cared for.

do you understand what that means / cut a little / or a lion on the loose in the bay area? i’m stuck here in this crop sliver, losing my cold flecks one expanse of sky at a time.  i forget how happy the inventor of balloons makes me. i made a coffee out of the sand you gave me. like a little caboose. i made a sea noose for my finger. my name is silvia and i have vowels that don’t work. and more laugh lines than before. what drugs do you have on your shoulders, why are moths important, etc. arc-welding. we went to the river and we crossed the river, etc. please tell me you have socks with toes that have stones in them. please tell me you always have, because i don’t remember a time when you weren’t a volunteer or a firefighter or a volunteer firefighter or made of some kind of gas, maybe a noble one, and if i have even one kind of heartstone, i’m alarm-based. i’m a left house shoe with a bell and no taxes and real me says stones are heavy, and stones don’t wear clothes, and stones like rental cars and stones bury the good lint, etc. i have a hundred lamps in my apartment and they all sing songs about gravediggers. pls tell me what letter in the alphabet is crying or a fossilhole and what is your drinks order and do telephones exist and where is your blood, have you left it and how tall is k-mart and are we twins and if so can we still work farmland, etc. it gets so norway. it gets halflife and cornea like this, etc. example: amarcord. example: dungeon family. example: wayne’s world. example: grubhub. how games are you. what about stones, then? do they have a loose limb we can shake? do their feelings make wind and if so are they dragon-sized?

                                                                                            cough, etc.

                                                                                 this is the form you fill out for feelings and this is the form you
                                                                 fill out for sleeping limbs and this is the form you fill out for florida.


my name is silvia.
these are my drunk furs.


If I was a stone pulled former,
pulled swiftly in darkmop,
stilled full-on chinacabinetcriminal.
It’s a light class gainfully destroyed, courtney.
It’s a light glass of sports in them.
Push the cat in the box in the river
like it’s all you’ve got worth in you.
                            Push it solid in you.
                            Push it fear in you.

i am a mother and i’m sorry.
i am a painsurvivor. we all are
drenched in spit you made
for roasting. climb out, clumsy
there’s a portal we haven’t stretched yet.
stones feel buffalo. on the hooves.

i don’t even know how you are
alive right now.

i’m an anxiety ball made of hay muffins
and buffalo soy mangos and other bodies
of eaten waters!!!!!

it’s grim in here, swordscape. us am pandadying. coin
supper we don’t have. we can donate our bodies to
stones. donate them through 



They waited to be released from bruise class

by holding up their small purple rings

they took from the disrupted water.

They are standing. Are we reaching into another cat now?

(Something about hidden pregnancies.)
(Something about lawns.)

They took from the disrupted water.

They took the converging burnt pieces from the air and they asked,

What’s the difference between being haunted and being hunted?

(Something about hidden pregnancies.)
(Something about lawns.)

One time I let them call you Curlsafe, and it wasn’t right.


What’s safe-ing a space like?

Rinds I    think. The tough soul     of instantaneous b  lu  rry fire. I’m so   sediment. So full of sediments quivering
like lights from space. And you look at them and go WHO’S IN THERE  WHO CARES WHO’S IN THERE

like it’s the milk in you. I’m so timber bath.

It’s a stupid way               to    lie about               

lonely questions.

I wish I had a stone to stop me from

my harpwood      and illness

my black-black

my orange       juice (grants for sanding

windy is a significant of

(shift with me

candles                       hand to hand, cigarette knowledge. i want pears, in salad. & stones. all the copal hair on me.

                                                                                                  I mean WHAT ru a fray of? the effort suddenly fell wet.
You need to know if you’re going to make crimes like that                    the reason you litter the rushing dignitaries                           

                                                THE REASON you encase yourself in windbreaker.

Go eat things.
Go away.

                        Go hoard fleshrain.

                                                            GO SUCK ON A LAYER OF LIME IN THE FOSSIL PIT

            Go window shopping.

                                                                                    Go away with me into the cavernous


                                                We’ll rink little sausages into our neat RiverWeaves We’ll watch their

            veins dissolve


                                                                        in our rips                    OOPS I MEAN OUR



                                                            why wouldn’t you stop me?


            why wouldn't you laser?
why wouldn't you adidas    | | |           ?
and tell me if i’m sleeping right.
canada of a dream we’re all having.
drone has me a sleeper
& there i crush things together
& there i gain panda
& there i egg
& there i ravage
& there i tender
& there i mark out dead dog time.
                                                              .|we all sleep we all together|.

(Something about lawns they took from the disrupted water.)
(Something about hidden pregnancies.)


let me forest this stone
if i forest this stone in you
if i haunt blue or real rain disaster
lease leak, former crow.
you are less oat scary,
new farms. hey dad
give a lapis reading
& yr pine blood gives out

& my pine blood
g i v e s o u t

it gives out stone
it gives out into motor glass
& it gives out into someclaw
I’ve always called a tide.
I’ve always clawed a tide.
A tide is the pain of the earth
sliding into forest.
A tide is the stone burning
over its sleep.
Oh look, a howl is a portal
Oh look, a strawberry is a shell
inside with an animal.
Oh                    look,                     the                      deep                    lake                   in                   our
Oh                      look,                              the                     plumbing                      is                        over.
You                       are                            footage                       of                         the                      camera 
the ice in the
parade walls.

Dance with me but only
forest yourself (that was it).
These are my wheatparts
this is my stone aimer.
Gleam off the archaeology of us
Gleam off the candle lining of the forest you.
When did I get rabbit eyes.
When was there water on both sides of the sand.
Stones at our sides in pink bark Stones are bars Stones are habit
Our sides can be fixed through plugs and stones if we forest hide.
This is a drainchanger. Come at me from above this time without the smoke gloves.
Throw some weird colors. Win some pool weddings. A stone is the result
of practice. We are the result of a fire damage, the last color to be named.
Bleed reaper in orange, poke me on facebook, join me in the deerstand!
I make drastic choices in the delivery form, I call the wrong thing whalefat,
device swallower, you are felt with the forest folding back the fork in your
neck. Pulse for lifts. Hero me, wash calls give swords a roommate &
spill wood
spill the rings
which indicate
how long
you’ve been

when was
i mad at

when did
my divorce

when did
my divorce
wing or
wasp make
in the center
of forest?

i am in
(of lip
of samuel))
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((miraculous blood in a messed up
((((grip there black sauce)
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((animallevel, breathe into this (sing)
breathe into the sill your body has become))))))))))))))))))))))
((((((there is a goat width (for holding)))
((what does forest for?                              )
(((((((((((what stones                                 )
(what mountains.
what cheek winter in saturn
oh look, a bag of magic things
oh look, a limb exit
oh look, deep sea pressure
& its effect on humans
oh look

groan us out, gasleak
take us out to cable cling.
rsvp new forest.
mark us filth.

show us your tail
in a tent after dark.
                                                                              the living sheets     were      once rock.

Carrie Lorig & Sara June Woods are authors of the chapbook rootpoems (Radioactive Moat, 2013). Their collaborations have been published in Denver Quarterly, Diagram, iO Poetry, interrupture and The Destroyer.