It might have been midnight when last we talked
and now I've got this poem that keeps flying
apart which accounts under these xenophobic stars
for all force: gravity, magnetism wind, the ling-
It's not only the word roses
lurking inside neurosis or the fact
that most of my formal education
occurred in the midwest, so too
I don't need to know any more about death
from the Japanese beetles
infesting the roses and plum
no matter what my neighbor sprays
The body of the lingerneedle is filled
with hemolymph unconstricted except
for a single dorsal vessel. A ventral
diaphragm bathes the organs of the head,
When I worked in the bookstore in Berkeley,
upstairs some woman would sing, alluring
as lava, husky as tar, sometimes it'd be
a whole band driving us a little crazy
How could I not?
Have seen a man walk up to a piano
and both survive.
Have turned the exterminator away.
Then I realized I hadn't secured the boat.
Then I realized my friend had lied to me.
Then I realized my dog was gone
no matter how much I called in the rain.
You don't have a clue, says the power drill
to the canoe hanging from the rafters.
Is life a contest everything plays