Finding New Invective to Inhabit

Ugh, these inexhaustibly
sunny days—
the brain inside the skull
the final thing,
unapprisable marrow in bone.
I suppose I should be happy
but I’m
monumentally sad,
the very mannered root
of disaffection,
and I speak
orbi contumely.
Inseparable from self-containment,
the deadening of two coastlines
to achieve homeostasis;
after such dislocation,
empty relief: the prairies.
Excessive fears
lead to deviant burials,
and unrecognizable people—
Capgras? Fregoli?—
turn without focus,
“physics stark mad
in metaphysics,”
the heart of the body
impounded,
hard like a skull.
In the pharmakon,
the poison is the cure.