Chairs and Leaves    

Title Page



I do not remember you like this

th the

I was not there then as I am now here

The time when the rains begin 

It’s a cold and it’s a broken

If I could remember myself toothless set sail in the giddy

Software toward an asethetic of the brain in flight *

I fell in love with you he would be telling me

There was a god watched me alone 

‘Sandria Sandria where are you my Sandria’

Software toward an aesthetic of identity *

Naked on the fridge

Software toward an aesthetic of the pubescent self *

A field of wheat wind later holding your arm

Grouse: if I do not move you will not see me

Receiving gifts I was so precious

Who else would have taken him

[Adding emotion, adding randomness, adding loss and forgiveness and bitterness and testosterone and…       how a (child’s) brain (develops,) comes to now] *


H Hesitation software: [what is a name, sSandria ] 

Three little words: I love you Daddy

Thje laws of visual data acquisition and a sexy algorithm in a little black dress

What parents I had only you

Ting the taste of (it (thelectricity

This? It’s only my white coat I wear working 

Let it be bangles will charm a man

To the god of me wherever he/she/it/they may be

There were always two of me

What is a penis Sandria and why can’t I have one 

Memoirs? o there are those and they are lies

Software toward an aesthetic of testosterone: you cannot hear the coming of their brains*

Tomato peelers 

Software toward an aesthetic of universal grammar *

Left too long alone

I can’t keep the men who know my name

Software toward an aesthetic of mothic rhapsody – I am so pretty so Peter O’Toole *


Software toward an aesthetic at the still point of the turning world *

The white I had come into finger to thumb

When elegies are eulogies

And sing their hymns an octave higher

I stroked a little sophistry

Perhaps you dreamed of me

We share a deep unspoken bond like no one

A little right hemisphere god delusion subroutine

Herr Doktor: where would you like to talk


The love song of Cloudio  

Your grace

The irresistible taste of getting laid, the face of it

Software toward an aesthetic of heuristic pheromones *

Who would have wanted me

Software toward an aesthetic of rapture *

Suppoase the sweet after sex sandria/

You peel the tangerine to reveal what can be eaten

I had spent hours on my face

Software toward an aesthetic of apres love algorithms *

You keeper of truth, Sandria, you guardian of beauty

Razor blades you

o cloudio

Your laboratory of glass fetuses

What he said the death of me

An ethical subroutine and the software of being wrong *

You shall have no other