Caleb Merritt

bvll

how on-sequenced. how a promise-bull glints gold-sun in the gold-light.
vision: a few naeful-heeperies attached to too much revision.
my noiseless neighbor, mr corpse. corpuscular attachments
to ligatures and Your Glibbing. aceitude, on. knowing, on.
I know of a nameless plate that holds a votive resistance.
all torque is unnatural. some wound you’re considered to be.
every voice, all along, musterfolded, a pre-science
kind of week, a promised seeker. a seeked onion. a promise
in the elegance of attached second minds. it comes from you.
regularly expressed hoaxes. your middle name: ingonglia.
a moroseness, a philodeadened pinch or two. what’s there
left to defend astride the open-residue. cloudhair.
liars in the havens. different goblin-shrouded market items.
Your electric whistler. How-arounded. This I knew to do
in a more angular way. With rulers. With two-pieces.
Modulated freezery. Resplendent portent-shows. The “s.h.”
worlded and a chimberly bass. /// ever attentive? i doubt it.
leave me to erase myself in a way of getting even. how often
we are attuned to partial agreements. gold-light far gone, the bull
comes charging, corners no longer have any meaning whatsoever.

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Caleb Merritt lives and works in the Treasure Valley.