smell it through the fabric

does this building tell you nicely how to enter

i put someone else’s napkins in my cup

before i leave

am i a one

who comes forth

undoing its center

am i a let

the lavish bitches

kiss it in the places

in these spring shoes

then foxed

in the gleaming aperture

am i a thinly plate its closest boundary

the name

means one who is natural

am i the name which means a having

of diverse partitions           so you want me

as a bare species

and then, a lively architecture

the world of flying motor projects

i have left The Amazing Hair Day, for you

so know me

like an urgency

or a

categorization

i’m fairly unselective

i just want an order of remove

the ash on the wind is from the paper mill

and so is the smell

i blow you a kiss

and it sails the fine river of the air

very hardy

and arrives

what can i stop the breach in me

with

can i use your hair

can i use your scarf

can i use your permission

and your rarest sounds

i’m wasteful

an affordance

and the shape of a wide, inadequate, dam

in your house i imagine you lie panting

no i don’t

in your house i’m sure you turn the drapery on

as though it were responsive, or knew its states

like they ran a legible circuit

up there

or a current

we are made with real flowers, in our prospect

we are a hot boat seat on the river of love

and continuance

do you like it? i made it

do you like it? it’s of! it’s of! it’s of!

light streams off the event/i want to put ALL the snakes in that box

extreme fun

fiction of the located source

tricked from its mooring

“you see, you are free in the world”

says the world

you see i feed the crocodile

lost in its utter composure,

the hour approaches on padding feet

the hour finding true vertical

hour in its house of radix and delta

in its interim place                                i invite it to stay                      and we taxi into

each other each other                        one more time at a            stupendous        /frolic/        pace

 
 
 
 
 
 

KIRSTEN IHNS is a recent graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and is currently a first year Ph.D. student and Neubauer Presidential Fellow in English Literature at the University of Chicago, where she studies texts that seem to want to be images. Winner of the 2016 Black Warrior Review poetry prize (judged by Hoa Nguyen), her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Bennington Review, Black Warrior Review, The Offing, BOAAT, The Sonora Review, TAGVVERK, New Delta Review, and elsewhere. She is from Atlanta, Georgia.