it’ll be the end of you, I said
but my wife was already writhing
making divots in the sod
her left leg thrashed
then split the picnic table in two
fast-food wrappers filled the sky
and the swimsuits of the ancients
released their chlorine
I woke from my thousand-year slumber to see
the sun
born from the womb of my wife
daylight returning
blinkless and new
OPTICS, METEOROLOGY AND GEOMETRY
I accept nothing
as true
I carry my thoughts
a long way
I consider the difficulties
I leave nothing out
unless it
recognizes me
I avoid the rain
I try to love the snow’s blank stare
I must remember to dismember
the moribund hopscotch of my guffaw
my cortical scrabble
the angelic bread-breeder wisdom
that clouds the knees
Was there ever a time when
the mailbox was corpulent with spent fish
my tongue a horror of patchwork facemask bosons
stalemate boomerang fortitude clogging my arms?
But I expect you’ve heard about
the moving elbows of my attempts to multiply
my skin set upon a mast
and the shapely blade of water
creasing my cow-friendly
chest hairs in the crepuscular zither
Ride with me in the woodblock
a premonition of slack
and a thousand birds buffeting
torrents of my eye-bleached ballet
Let me speak plainly:
in the creaking corner
a toolbox sorrow and the tonsils
a reply of desk bus overalls and
a tithe on the ledge of before-I-was-born
I run
I satiate
I porous gratitude in the rust-bound palaver
you are a shrewd arithmetic of mention
the recanted pyjamas of scent
Mention me
O statutory gasp of the nosedive
Together, we are a nebula on the precipice of sport
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