Three Poems
The Compiler is Contaminated
I became epoch in the distant multiplicity of mud. Guests sipped the coffin counterfeits of many vined brains. I languaged emergent control, attracted mime hands, beaks in their guts to sew the leaking handsome. The compiler is contaminated. My worldview is forever the terror that if barks, where stag are the wind of a going transition. Pardon the neck that I head, that treats screams as moving middles, for in that close and long lathe of the translator’s kink I have seen blue daffodils and snow begging from a colander. O, elder! For any promise you will need a gun! Hold firm in low wind scarce wings of little birds; block the comfort that requires hanging.
The Compiler is Contaminated
We promise scarcity the linguistic construction of belief. The real translation is a slow predation in red snow. Such strutting at meaning during wonder. And which neck of music? God amalgam. Conditioned elopement. The encyclopedic middle-to-moat of the combative original. I go small into aphrodisiac places, hedonic beneath swift treason. From whose horror exists an evening sketch of pines? Watch-chested horses slobber as does the leopard. You perform at the head of our principle: mutual and attentive as the beauty of birds in their passing of sores.
The Compiler is Contaminated
Somewhere, physicality is the point. Torn to dependence in tender morn, I turned them in where suture gives no alphabet for theory. Far monster, spider thing, script which they eat in mole purpled snow. No garden knocks from a peephole. Distance or no, objects are terror. You have brought wild sorrow o’er my text, a pause waking into its hole. The you is ephemerality shown where I slip wonderfully into comparative reset. The sentenced heart is clarity. What regret may solicit my eyes is mutual: nonesuch gore in the panoramic goodnight. O, beneficent twin, on to the inexperience. Somewhere physicality is the point.
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Evan Williams (they/them) is a Chicago-based writer interested in asemic texts and surrealism. Their work can be read in DIAGRAM, Denver Quarterly, New Orleans Review, and elsewhere. Evan is on social media @evansquilliams.