What If We Each Lost a Thumb in the Door?

First sleep like words you live by
as style and error in flightless
birds outside your window--lit through
as precise as the effort on

the curb of exhaust-

pipe condensation.

Waiting to leave your house tending

to think, waiting to leave. Your house's

loose feathers flexed off

and smuggled between persons, thin;

"I'm glad you kept an eye out for me

when you were around."

Seconds after we push

the dead Cadillac from the driveway, still

waiting for Antinoos to leave. A few more

years of eventfulness and acquaintances.

Out back the stump whose bark sticks up

like a crown: pull the tree, leave said

wrapper, inhale.

Feel better. All

fingertips as dusters, joints

of geese break off, your jaw clenches

before you reach below the seat, intuit

còndor, rest under the strong ginger

smell that fashions

our whole flighty mess.

Read more...

Lathe of the Creator

How many car accidents ought you survive?
You approach the counter, all
The remaining green army men in
The bank. Blood vessels stopped

Up with stolen toilet paper, the soft expanse
Like skin to get past. The brain's white film--
You can wipe it off but not off your hands
Or faucet. Get at me soon; say "Hello" for once

In your eyes. The coffee stammers on the stovetop.
We had not thought the path would still be flooded
When the rain stopped, while we were talking.
"See it seep

Out the crack in the mug?" A finedrawn scalding
So I stick my arm, the veined scape to mouth
Five petals out for sun, drinking
Where it can reach. The track of orbit's

Fancy: an odd look strung
Between the buildings with two screw-
Rings in the sill, some length of nylon
Bracing bricks through the underframe.

We are making believe America, always making where
Is there to start? But you approach, ask:
What is it you can tell it from?
How badly would you like it to matter? I have a sentimental

Attachment to my mausoleum. Can they help? You'll think
Of them dying
Often. So how chosen do you feel? Sooooooo
Idiosyncratic, we breathe in

In the manner proper to one. My envelope
And then, the gasbag itself. We will remarrow you
Of an Aerostat. How unthinkable you are.
You will not buy out of the system we

Are all busy thinking about how to-
gether we all are. I like to wait
For odds, sink costs into gullies.
The bridges get fixed, fall out of memory on

One side of which we drop distinctive twigs
We watch to the other, coughing up fog.
Its the largest deal in History.
Now people live for decades.

Read more...