Per your instructions I am getting under this chicken’s skin with pats of compound butter, stowing the remaining herb twigs, onion, lemon, in the body’s dark cavity, cutting slits where the neck used to be, trussing it with its own legs, carnal, barbaric, delicious– Tonight is the dinner party, the only cohesive theme this newfound religion of decadence, oh we went in for truffle oil (yeah I know) triple crème cheese, the fattiest pork bits. […]
[Political Exercise] When I was three I would argue with my dad Any number is bigger than any number childish tautology there isn’t anything that insistence can’t make so just ignore all fiddling any acrid smells, you know they boo you when they love you
an abrupt loss of velocity and what is the weather and where is today the durable patterned fabric of seat 27c repeats like a mantra here is here is here inevitably a portable construct and soft cool rain
this month sheds days like scales and another thing breaks under cornflower skies another method of conveyence the express bus the phonecall kept dropping and here I read another poem about furniture coincidence but the eye lingers how to assemble a self repair or spring for something newer
First seen from afar bas relief of steel the edges of Manhattan and proof that it does end and one hot train from Newark is how it begins a car on its rails a needle in its groove a burst of static and the track starts to play
that inexorable pull the waterfall splitting into a hundred separate streams rivers in the air full coursing but bankless even in fear there is boundlessness here mist and rain caught in indeterminate webs and spiders dead center if there is mystery we carried it in water runs to the lowest point
A crisp evening the pasta perfectly al dente light clinging to the sky like legs of wine finally quiet caesura– and no one claps through the pause– everything in harmony except that door, ajar
You said it’s still winter, ice sheets around Greenland, while flying, up above it all, hermetically sealed, observing, removed, the ice withdrawing, the ocean stretching to fill a void, although from altitude it wouldn’t seem to be moving at all, there are subtle things you miss from austere heights, giving up detail for the largest panorama, further out, still, with no more borders, strange landforms falling under the very edge of the day, abstract clouds […]
Sun today like honey like salve and that breeze coming off the lake– crisp bridges linear and visible in fullest color not simply more light this clarity– winter has its own perspective– a twist of mirrors and new glass shifts into focus a few repurposed shards illusions of infinity and then there is this sky
Waiting on the weather report. Come dawn we’ll know better but for now it’s unseasonably warm. Which makes these words unreasonably harsh. Why burden your burden? You sink stones in mud to step on, a way across, why be mean to your means, unless you seek an end?
OPTIONAL POETRY 