barnaclecallouses (inspired by caitlin beilin)

it hides in the strangest of places. under barnaclecallouses for example. the ones i scrape off my teeth every morning. except those mornings i forget. and except the mornings i decide i’m too tired. and except the mornings where there is no sun. or those that are not mornings at all but nightmornings in disguise. and those when i decide i just don’t want to. not because i have forgotten the feeling of smooth teeth but on my tongueside. nor the cloudsurf of breezyteeth days and coolwarmth water. but because i have a need for the blood that comes from my bleeding tongueside cut from those verysame barnaclehouses. the verysame that have vanity in their shrewd angular poses. i have a tigerhound that dreams of that bloodsome metalpunch that sinks itself deep under the sod and moistland hiding from the sun. from the imitators of suns, and all those creatures of distancespace and joyful contradiction. whose teeth and jawbone trample my toothbrushes and metalpicks. whose centigrade bloodlust bacteria play lengthwise and disdain gravity’s pedantry. and blacksongs are allbutgodly as anything can be. my own throatsound leaks and borrows but cannot find the water’s other strange places. rulersticks have hidden grasps used unknowingly and with the binding sense of a child’s madeye. where water sinks under itself when no one has eyes of sight. butstill my toothnails were kingdomclean last tuesday. and my brushbristles righten in the wait.