Without help now
I can maneuver myself
upright, then supine to correct
the wind spinning my brain
from myself. My face angled
and pillow propping my shoulders,
poetry
Keep away from drugs.
Don’t go near the crazy neighbor.
The drugs can burn your eyes out,
and he might stab your dog
The story exaggerates. She never thought to ask
that her plates be cast of gold. It was the wind
cutting through the cabin that made her ask
for the house. Her poor husband—always
in danger—hardly protected on land or at sea.
Why not act indulgent and reckless for once?
An oarsman floats on a weightless scull.
Salt in the low marshes. Sunbathers smoke something strong.
There is a broad forgotten flower
in the ruins of our days, rising
immaculate from the frozen earth,
its purple heart waiting for a woman’s
name: Rose, Iris, Veronica,
Daphne.
There is a broad forgotten flower
in the ruins of our days, rising
immaculate from the frozen earth,
its purple heart waiting for a woman’s
name: Rose, Iris, Veronica,
Daphne.
Lo, the color of my mustache,
chestnut-shell with flecks of gold-leaf,
signaling to the world I take myself too
everythingly. Lo,
I’ve been keeping the quarter-full can of caffeine-free diet cola
Ma left in my refrigerator four weeks ago,
visiting from the chicken farm