TRACY DIMOND & THE ILK MONSTER MASH

It is possible that you have considered what kind of monster ILK would be if it were, in fact, a monster. Cthulu or Kraken. Chimera or Godzilla. Siren or Selkie.

Good news! Tracy Dimond made us our monster, a monster whose organs are made from the entirety of ILK NINE.

 

There is Only This One Season

 

Galileo was the first to ask Whose brain.

I can teach you

about lighter fluid, but

it’s making my brain delirious.

 

I resent the Internet for telling me

that I am not a plant.

Who do I give this hyper anxiety to?

I dream sporadically of reincarnation.

I wet myself thinking

about the possibility.

 

In the plural space, machinery is

taught to mimic how a skeleton unbuckles.

An animal dismantles softly,

each taxonomy undoes its seamless structure.

 

A small impression steams

shirtless and run through with heroin.

I can usually be found

laughing alone in my apartment.

I’ll need it in the original German.

 

Hopeful for madness,

cover your head with your hands.

What happens if I have compassion on

who we’re fighting?

 

I snitch on myself in confession,

one night, I follow myself,

who’s fallen from her aircraft

like the classical music station

fucked into cheap thunder by static.

 

Anna wanted a hospital.

Wanted a handgun and a

shooting range, the target

to be a grey wolf turning blue.

 

No. I don’t care anymore,

my untrained sympathetic vibrations

a spear in the pool.

Then I would really start to roar.

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