advertising
off Madison Avenue something
happened I'm sure of it
involving atoms, a clean floor
a man or a worm getting
messy all alone spouting
brown water or something
like slush on the shoes
of a wagon but bigger
extremities, reaching at
goal posts or desperate
beards in bars while
clean hands clean pitchers
and pans and handles
of fridges full of goat
meat or squashes broken
into hummus with a glob
of blood it's acidic like
dogs shivering outside shops
like that '09 road trip
when Alberta exploded
once we beat that hill
and Sam wasn't around
yet but lurking in the rear-
view making moves faster
than abuse of a system
I'm sure of it
abstraction
in some country some spectacle
some beatnik some Kyle-like someone
speaking in fun tones in droves fresh
out of detention and around the corner
from the never-ending present
to the woman across the street
with flowers on her knees and a buff-
breasted paradise kingfisher perched
on her tit the merge occurred of course
it's unfortunate we were not witnesses
all you have is this account and every
other thing you wake to or flake on
like scraping goat shit or plans of hope
or Styrofoam plates in the basement
you hid like breasts from men who only
or mostly want to orgasm into your guts
speaking of Vise-Grips and terror
of flames it's true maniacs exist
like all these heads I'll never enter
or have I?
dangling
what happens when the hangman goes home?
does he revel in his launching, read the paper,
drink to sleep to dream the hangmare,
exhausted in duty's evil, mind blended
by the deathjob, the means to feed his family?
does he debate whether he gave a good drop
or does he exist only in numbness, a fix
in his skull, blurring details of the struggle-snap,
of cruelty, of the often-too-harsh reality
that someone's gotta do it
unstoppable
all you are are
forces of a confluence.
a buffet of calves
for the black flies.above you, ten skies,
ten imaginary sky guys.
all you are is in a grip
of something. a creaturecapable of abstraction.
making dada out of the backs
of your eyelids. an elastic
bound on a spectrum.full of what you can't find
words for. lingered perfume
on a thrift store sweater.
a crow's caw in an eardrum.all you are is stardust bone.
a minor chord drowned out.
all you are is the falsehood of destiny,
redeemed by the beauty of chance.
