Amish Trivedi

'Why God Lives on a Tiny Island in Hawaii'

Blisters are an unwanted sacrifice:
            too much
            laughter and playing. A

day will come when

            rain is by necessity acidic. I could be
working construction with a

dad or an uncle.



'Meta Static'

'Real' is not in
wire garrotes.

Against the graying

contrasts of celluloid,
the diseased nails,

ripping through the
teeth across a lawn,

buried in the

noises, are counteracting
lucid hours.



Symptoms are

adding up:
in heat. Skin

about birds:

heavy dye cast

              machine :: measured





'Merry Cast/ Tortured Brow'

            The salts were
heavy, casting nets
                                    onto a slow cancer as they
                                    seize up in deep reward. The
cut teeth were

isolationists. As marigolds find their
                        sand made, a smile split
a paragraph in-
to a new piece. There
are too few seasons of static
night and scattered
wisps of patronage. This diseased corpse still writhing believes

in an electronic messiah to carry the rain.