foreclosing the gaps they are rushing around in hand-me-downs; to dismantle is also to build; the sun takes hold of the porch; i take it upon myself not to part from my husk; redemption won’t come today won’t come tomorrow; promptly a fall-out; gnosis as war; the remote control of a root unsung; hometown stuffed into genitality; a model of displacement; beeswax, pull down the tables; do not go with the flow; inaccessible stilt house the discourse on inaccessible stilt house; a toast chortled; a life ridden with flashbulbs; i don’t give a shit about seeking refuge in you; they sink beneath the toast
31
of crosstown pledge still out of doors on the politics of it bunny bit by bunny bit eyes on a padlock still out of words trying to understand a police patrol as much as the tough times we have getting into these things my husband zigzagging into This Is The Wrong Number the crane has a way of pissing you off you shaking a billboard’s hand oafishness as ballast still with a cast negotiating bladder control bygones and venetian blinds those tires reading the street maybe beauty is a question out in the rain you’re better off without an umbrella say all say nothing picket fence trashcan
40
there is more to the silence of milkweed. their disguises end up in a comicstrip. tincans in reeds, candywrapper, gyroscope. stealing back the past. why not go berserk. i don’t like biographies. i come from a family of freaks. it does not make sense not to go crazy now and then. i know the licks you know but do you know the licks i know. syllables eating figs. coal, burrs, croissants inside your sheepskin coat ebbing then rising then ebbing.
