Heir Apparent

Issue #43 January 2016

Capital | Hannah Brooks-Motl

Despite our rugged name

She came as a bird

Boxed in a mahogany problem

She descended on crystals

Afloat within the family substance

He ensued to the north

Her writing was fading no twisted

A combination of linen

The simple and average, the cultural epoch

The ordinary, sensuous thing

Slid out of our past

He undertook a private labor

By the brutal reduction of means

Science occurs

She developed further cunt logic

And fell into terrible secret

Its element of palest green

He was the only design

For longing and feelings

Endure action then sadness

Be my ancestor he chanted, suffered—

When I am in the country

When I requite the country

I won’t ever marry my love uses me up

In my fields carry blight

Perhaps the song of her is blight

So far no chemist could locate her

He folded in the ordinary manner

A born inter-actor

I didn’t enter the decade until the velour

In reality someone has made

This turquoise matting

Standing inside

In reality I have never lived

On the land

These things confront me

This collection of arrow

The gaudy ribbon of habit

A domestic vibrato

What ambiguous image

To choose the bad husband

Unchoose him

Where in history have I surmised

She dabbled in paints

It was untaught but sold to the couple

Passing by from Chicago

They liked the wry loops of the hills

Then took to the hills

My apparel is an occasion

And one’s tripartite construction

And this turquoise massing inside

There appears a house

Collapsing upon him

He determines the magnitude for us

I drink from the torso

As gratitude has its four generations

A set of books too

In the pores

Between man and man

She worshipped

Then lived on after death

In her garbage

And glass of all colors

The jury herself wearing robes

She was a bug

He belched

Passing by from Chicago

They coupled

I sat on the log and thrust forth

His people were useless

Or merely useful to others

When we get to the money she’ll go

I suppose I’m simply expression

The furthest expression

Of whoever and time

And this turquoise material

I’m calling matting

Rotates inside

By universal consent

He cranked up the heat that night

Turned her over

The beautiful color stood out

From the hay

No one selects it

The pattern we’re leaving

A pure, general formula

In the co-incident something arrived

He releases the money

Right into her

She’s abashed by Chicago

He’s purchased an orchard

It petrifies

In the prize sunset she prospers

No one contained them

Their moral element

Junk muscle and love

Of dolomite, gravel, and clay

Mundane species perched in the hills

The honest breasts heaving

Bracket the keen eye of an expert

Lash her to stable

Extend him to the yard

The cup pours out of the sky

All its crick

All its doldrums

When the value is under

His boot we say

One’s third space is gleaming

She has entered refractions

From my own year

I believe it

I am a living agent

Metabolically set within nickel

A solitaire in the working day

A pluperfect unit

Lightly reading

Their chemical was serious

Her voice was sad

For what it didn’t know

Its vulgar economies were sad

The dirt gets yellow and wrong

He caught the future

Eating the money

Her turquoise dissolved

Water dissolved

Between her legs she dissolved

In the shed it passes

Out of the family

And flowed down the gravel

I smash one bug on the screen

Don’t answer my mother

Unabsorbed by time

Another layer of fur

Of battery charge by the wind

Her trash under the bed

And she was pretty

With acne

Short bob hair on the floor

He thought across the jewel tones

Of the crop, the crate

Of pop with a cat on it

And a cat above

Climbing the rear quarter

Up the conveyer to more blocks

He liked squat ones

She walked through the grave

To where the art came

And kept her awake, the art

How should I confirm

Their blunt limit or vigor

Like pain affects the knee

Then travels over the dump

Of words I’ve tried today

Hello to the poison

Living inside

Hello my solo blood

To the decimal

Who bobs and circulates

“The land is available”

As human reflection

In the last decades of capital

She tore from the ground