Or else I said ash,       as I do.
                                                       Selah, rise

to it, all not      lit at.
                                        No lot

empty or otherwise
swore the pity more
empty or otherwise
poor.
              Yes, threw time
hope,
              swore try it (me).
Empty or otherwise

they wire:
                         MORE STOP

lie all evocative      i.e., I’ll vacate love.

A timid       I admit

I want out      now, taut, I

added need,      dead ended

en route.
                         Seems I’m sewn too tight.
                                                                            Spit me
to shine.
                    Moot emesis.
                                                 Wept rust me.
                                                                              Get in.

Sometimes we step into something true.

Woke in the wake of      he knew too.
                                                                            Weak if,

thens.
            Us,      the sun’s

to set null, red into its      unset still, rode into T-

minus us,      us, in sum,

can’t solve.
                         Love’s cant:

forever.
                     Veer for

flingable alibi set:
                                              all in a big life.
                                                                            Best

caress      scares

revile      relive

a page      agape,

snag      nags

blink to      ink blot

gives a      visage

eyes I’d made.      Seed my idea

in deed,      indeed,

fit end to law:
                              pray      and we flap.
                                                                         I try to

fly as time.
                               Time flays

and falls on us,      and falls on us

to (hint:
                  I dove       into the void)

destroy      (de-story).

I to pen:
 

                      open it.

From Stet by Dora Malech. Copyright © 2018 by Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission of Princeton University Press.

Mind as conflagration,
mind as a canting floor—

not as in
nation’s

raw red
reward—

rather some
other mare’s

lore—plays up a
role. Apply us a

poultice of pulped bills
(cut, I bleed). Poll’s pupil, of

this sea be fealty’s fashion. I
obey, finish a last shift, see a

say-sickness, to swab
abscess, ways to skin

late cataplasm,
a meat past call.

Spend us
sends up

baubles, sad
baud, bless a

bit per second,
bent crop dies,

honored
horde. On

a bruising
in us I brag
as big ruin—

In America
I can re-aim.

From Stet by Dora Malech. Copyright © 2018 by Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission of Princeton University Press.

from      form
for to rest upon,      rent of, stop our
notes’      onset.
O sentence      once tense,
skin      inks
indelible, was      libel, sawed in
a shelf      aflesh.
In meat,      I meant,      in meat
begin      being
read,      dear,      a red
season      as one’s
affairs      afar, ifs
in wet blossom      blown, so I stem.
Flower      flew, or
eros      rose,
or trees      reset, or
please      elapse
is lips,        is lips.      I slips
it into night.         In tonight, it
plays      splay,
sore throats’ dins I      shored into stars. I
read      dare
to be a snow-pure      re-up, a bet won so
on aim,      on I am,
throw      worth
its harm,      this arm,
mute song      sung to me,
a moot      am too.

From Stet by Dora Malech. Copyright © 2018 by Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission of Princeton University Press.