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Poetry by Lexie Mountain

Shark Poem

I put on my good eyebrows for this medically induced two-day coma? Send me to rehab!

Our lookbook for this season is the smell of rolling thunder

And a saltwater spray for scrunching with.

Something sharp and tangy that lasts all year, something tonifying to the blood

Slice lemon balsamic, shoyu and a citrus vinaigrette

A blog post about the dad

A blog post of an article about walking the appalachian trail and remembering the father

An update to the blog post about remembering the father, when dad passes on even further along

Slice lemon balsamic (I’m ignoring the moon)


We feature page after page of leg after leg, thick as trees you’ve never seen and dressed in soft hair

A bicycle-sized dragonfly, a pack of them, circulate in the mist

Leg after leg swims through air the color of subway station

Leg after leg, herding flocks of mayflies longer than toddlers, forward ever forward

One tree after the other

Emotions swim around the tree

Walk a mile in gilded tan saltwaters

Emotional fish swarm and collect and linger for some reason

What are a dock, a set of pylons! They think I can protect them! They are, emotionally, complete.

Expensive house in a flood plain, no insurance, something larger will rebuild, ah heart

Ah Earth you old extinguisher, air bubbles in fresh underwater sand

Being able to see clearly into the distance is another kind of fog, an endless unchanging landscape.

    the far off is here, behind you

   the distant barge is here, next to you

  the impossible wheel turns and a lake comes into view, beside you

everything is sudden and ridiculous

there is no foundation


I keep seeing this: emotions are not facts

My thoughts do not define me, me thoughts are not me, not who i am, not anyone

Thoughts like FOG, drifting in and settling on the horizon and just sitting there

Drifting wide and becoming gray and kissing treetops

Wide shouldered and confident and unstoppable, tis happening

Where can I vape on this train!!??

My w hiiiiii et legs walk for quarters of miles, and each time each leg does a pause the slender minnows return to smooch and smooth and swirl

They think I am foundation, I am protection. They think I can save them?

Herds are prey, its fear, its bloodsweats it is the only thing left

I am SO SMALL, my eyes cannot see but I know that the tide is going out, the water is becoming shallow, the crabs are heading for deeper, more sexual waters, while we are trapped here

Haha my eyes are on both sides of my head, and my friends are close by. My friends are indistinguishable from me. My friend is me. we are one emotion, and we are so thankful for Leg. Joy has blossomed into relief

For days, howlurs, I don’t know, possibly years, I DONT KNOW TIME!

time is your fault

any HOW


just forward forward always forward, future future, anything will do. Does it give shade? STAY HERE

Does it stay still, even for a moment? COULD BE A HOUSE

This leg is like a cave, a reflection on the side of a cave, they don’t know, they can’t possibly

At the end of the day I respect your boundaries


there is no but”

there is only forward, forward, eyes perfectly aligned with the weight of sand, the emotions clear as a bell at the bottom of the pond

the emotions i can sense their landscape with my feet

their edges, the things about them that are soft

the things about them that are brassy and separate from myself

the things about them that are fugitive, fleeting, unrepentantly ID

I just want to feel a version of the sun that hasn’t happened yet

We are starting to feel it. We feel it

I just want to simmer in a different kind of heat

Am starting to feel it. Am inside of it

I am afraid of being eaten

Yet the eating is peaceful, take forever bites go ahead

Despite an inability to articulate the sensation I am able to agree that I am capable of nourishing the whole


Grass springs up through a mirror, grass STAYS

we adopt the firmest thing closest to us

swarming

There will never be another different heat

there will never be another set of eye — where you gonna put them, BOTH IN FRONT??

HA!

nice try

I don’t have to know what something is to like it, to want to be close,

to flick it with my tail and my whole entire self





IT LIKE you need to see my pain to know I am really doing something

There are only two modes: absolute lose-it or obelisk passivity, why can’t you accept anything else

Why can’t you accept that the vast middle distance is a conflation of here, this here, this point,

AND

the infinity of the future, the stretching of potential, a luxurious unfurling of same same same

something muscular is tired tired tired of itself, tired of talking in circles, tired of flirting with boundaries, just can’t seem to locate source or address or pin drop

I — just — I’m — around you, a red-tipped marshland, shuddering muck bristling with fierce sprouts, agape with pollen and dusted by the setting sun

a horse, a dock, a national seashore

the thing, its surface, a dream

the thing surfaces as if in a whole dream

Physically? Im ok

Physically? Speaking?

I’m shell

Physically? I’m web

I’m Kyle, upset, I report you.

My yelp review of this interaction reveals that I am a bad person.


I’m cruising, sharklike, approximate, eyes rolling. I’m doing it at the dinner table.

You can newspaper about it all you want, see if that helps

The one app will tell you too late to do anything

The fog is too slow to see the nose you want to punch

The fog, fog bosses the air like a fist

Makes the blood cold and the eyes furious


There is something about your anger that becomes the lease on a pickup truck, that has a 20% APR of not know what it’s doing anymore, that rents out itself to branded entities, that knows where to find the best FOG on sale the best deal on FOG the best eyeless fury, the best endless grass, the most infinitesimal irritant ever unleashed by a stamen this side of the atlantic

If you pick up the fog canister you can read the maker’s mark. You can feel the same sting across the globe, the same displacement and dispersal. The fog bosses the market like a fist and retreats, begs for kindness”


The lookbook for us propels grit into the nose at twenty MPH, sends dead branches scurrying, forcibly waters everything in its path. The lookbook saturates groundcover. These whores can’t keep it together. Put a womb couch from the playboy mansion in front of them and they lose it, their neckties curl and their ears AWOOOGAH

At the end of the day, all you can do is rest up and say WOW. Take this time to go inward and say to yourself WOW. Do a large WOW every day, in some small or large way. WOW. WOW out loud if you need to, WOW out of town. The you of it all, the simply ChUR CHA the simply seeing you, the gratitude, the WOW

Our lookbook is shark week, starting now

Lexie Mountain

Twitter: @mountainlex
IG: @mountainlex
Bsky: @mountainlex.bsky.social

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