ON THE NATURE OF FLESH (AND THE FLESH OF NATURE) is a youthful mix of extended metaphor, low humour, rambles about nature, society, capitalism, queer politics and anything else that the poet feels at least mildly strong about.
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I've got high-rises up my legs A double-carriageway down my spine Every inch of me is occupied by somebody else.
You live in the suburbs, my darling, behind the shell of my ear on the soft skin you'd kiss to wake me, each morning-after you spent in my neighborhood.
It's a long, busy drive along my arms to reach the warmth of my palms. My grandfather lives there, cradled by the soft skin of my fingers which held his tight in the hours he was dying.
You'd need to get the bus to visit my mother. She's out on the coast of my scalp, wrapped in the ocean of my hair which she used to brush each day from child till early teenhood with such affection I'd let her do it for hours, even if she never did it right.
Take the trainline all the way down my back along the slant of my torso and the rise of my knees and don't get off until you reach the final station. H will meet you there. I loved him through childhood. He's got a luxury apartment stretched out along the soles of my feet which used to beat against the concreted streets of town we'd each race through together in youth.
I started off small at birth, a township in my teens, but now I'm bustling. Though even as I grow, even as space becomes few and far between I make sure that there's always enough room for one more person to make a home in me.
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