Now, we take the moon
into the middle of our brains
so we look like roadside stray cats
Careful of what I carry
in my head and in my hollow,
I've been a long time worried
All these great barns out here in the outskirts,
black creosote boards knee-deep in the bluegrass.
Witness the wet dead snake,
its long hexagonal pattern weaved
around its body like a code for creation,
Say tomorrow doesn't come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
It was only months when it felt like I had been
washing the dishes forever.
All day's been a cut above even keel.
The laundry bag broke, the shoe's
cheap heel stuck in the pavement's
They say the first thing that goes
is the short-term memory. You forget
your keys, you forget your address,
The man across the street is mowing 40 acres on a small lawn mower.
It's so small, it must take him days, so I imagine that he likes it. He
must. He goes around each tree carefully. He has 10,000 trees; it's
Sun in the cool expressway underpass air
and Ma calls, says it's nice out today
during her long walk through the vineyard