OBVIOUSLY NOT


You get up, go
Where you share it,
not exactly explaining.

The wine tastes a little acidic.
Your sister has
Brushed out her hair.

Aren't there scissors?
Yes, you are a
Pretty good person.

POLITICS


Windy, drawn over--
perhaps mapped. Small

Aching fruit from
The vine. I can't

See for all the
Love. Liner notes.

The creek was cold,
Sparked with brook trout.

You could step right
Under it, forget

About lunch. I like
Bridges out on

Desolate berms,
Built there, highways,

Running over
Highways. Quiet

Family of
Six--it's the four

Of us against
The two of them.

SIGN LANGUAGE

Hello, first meeting back--
Confess, taste--let's sop
up all the sentiment. It's

Warm here at the plaza.
I-am-doing-fine. But
An inversion appears.

Sad, on somebody's face.
"Perhaps it's mine," he says.
I-know-these-human-tricks.

"Like living in the lake?"
This goes nowhere. The sun
Falls out of its socket.

Oh, her face, I prefer
It, dust moving over
The moon, her long legs like

The beautiful mind of
A spider. But that's not
The whole story. Winning.

Brothers and fathers. God.
The blunt-faced cry of a
Planet. The fish will try

To mother you. You'll find
Yourself pissing your life
Away. Go on, head north.

Take the studio door
Right off the wall. Be calm.
Don't keep talking. Step through it.

THE RUNNER

At least there was
No ball and chain.
Forget what the ash
Tray sang in the

Shed. There was a
Cartoon quality,
Scarier and all in
Alien water.

I sat straining
At my desk. "Michigan."
I only saw Jesus
Though. I saw

The future in ice.
A man is sorely desperate
For love. He runs
A track inside

His mind (he'll make them
Pray). Because we won't.
I attach these
Things to miles deep.

I had a boat
To sleep in once
I knew. It trembled
West. When I was

Born they tied a
Buoy to his leg.

THE MUTINY

Whether or not
He puts the stones
Down my gullet.

You weren't tied to
That chair. Nor dreamed
In it. Not yet.

Delicate as
The buttons on
My sister's red

Sweater. It's that
time of year. Space
Boy space girl space

Girl space. You know.
Add another
Girl. Because I

Dreamed it I've had
To own it once
Again. The woods

For instance. Eyes,
Oh no. The day
Gets sick to its

Stomach. We aren't
That far apart.
We are. And in

The bed? Don't laugh,
Goddamn it, we're
Live, not crying . . .

THE MIRROR

I can't see you.
Semblance. I mean
The rain. The black

Rain. It's night you
know, fingernails. Dragged.
And bitten off.

HEAVEN

The fact of it.
The dream posit.
In your suitcase.

This side, outside.
Right here, but not
Now. Up there then?

I'm a long way
From them. Him, but
Way back. Before?

You can't divide
Such kids, and love.
Dear Wished Unborn.

He's less one sin.
A drum on the
Table. The song

Of the Kingbird
(like wind moving
under the car),

The inside of the
Egg. The very
Idea. He may just

Follow you there.
"This patient would
Not be refused."

THE MOTORCYCLE

Dragged out to the
Corner, stood on
Its legs. The bad
Weather outside

Was confusing.
"The engine won't
turn over." Then,
"There are way too

Many ads on
TV." I breathed
It all in though.
The two of them!

All that white sand
Falling in rings
On the hardwood
Floors. Her shoes crunched

In it. I don't
Know where they went
After that. She
Lit up a Kent.

I could smell it
in my bedroom.
Ahh, I thought, the
Feast. But then no

One came after.

OCTOBER

I wasn't quite
Born yet. Rainy
Morning outside

Of Boston. A
Sugar cube melts
In the doctor's

Cup of coffee.
Someone stuck a
Halloween cat

Up on the wall
In the hall out-
Side my mother's

Room. My father.
Sitting in the
Car smoking a

Cigarette in
The drizzle. Blackbirds
Like a dark wave.

Then a few last
Stragglers. I know.
I know. It's time.

NEW MEMORIES

I can't just say
So because you
Want me too. The

Pages still turn.
The wood on the
Porch still ages.

I've got some new
Memories now.
Field half dunked in

Shadow, the moon
Orbiting the
Angry face. I've

Got five minutes
To kill as well.
I'm still waiting.

THE WEIGHT OF THE SOUL


Here, then there, almost
Never somewhere else.
Way and the hell a-
Way. Or far from now.

The hell with this. We
took the dog. I see
the flowers under-
Root, stars of water-

Fall. Cold as leaves, the
Flies, the plaques on graves.
Dragged down into the
Basement screaming. I

Felt summer in the
Lake. Even there, then.
Here, I'm inland. Not
up there. Forget him.

In fact forget them
all. Or mostly. Trout
Lake and Seney--There
May be no word for

This. Please come in a
Plane (then leave me). Leave
A scent. I will come
Back. The hell, I'll go . . .

ANCESTRY


I grew up there,
I saw what I
saw: pheasants. The

land deepened. God,
I mean the sky!
My father. Man,

like a bird in
the forest. Give
Me a goddamned

Peanut. Backwards,
I guess, but with
feeling. That's true.

WORDS


The mind's on top.
They're like little
Ski jumps, and the
Body is the

Mountain. "I just
Said so," he says.
Flood lights come on
In her eyes. She

Won't even go
There. Upholding
The world, she is.
She thinks, So what?

Plummeting. He
Looks. He swallows.
Hard. Outside are
Various long-

Legged person-
Birds, bald-headed,
Waiting for things,
Elbows and hair.

Water turning
In their big black
Eyes. And shame piles
Up. A gusher,

Pink-tipped, she just
Wasn't a bad
Girl? No. It's just
Love in a pile.

A bodily
Aura. The fat
Green pine doesn't
Wink. Big hips. Hot

Seeds in a wheel-
Barrow. Wrong, wrong.
Her white side swings
Up. They're skiing.

BIRTH


The flamingos, citizens of the concourse

Men riding behind women

Living in them

The leather and sweat and the hills made out of Formica

I stood in the giant window watching Western Colorado
___sink into the edges of consciousness like a watery star . . .

Behind me someone was stomping on oyster shells

The birds' feathers were being brushed too violently

Like an elegant hat had blown off of a cruise ship, turning once
___in the wind before floating down on top of the ocean

My eyes burned. I needed to wash my hair

Sunlight shone through a cloud

Or so I thought . . .

I turned to see someone burning outside the mind . . .

1976


Dream-giver purse snatcher all American
Alien Boy lettering out like there's no excuse

"Colonos-pic," the other sunshine listers
over the folded black sheets of the bed

The cat is drying--there's no ointment in the ice
shanty. Let this be a memory for you.