kingsoftrain

age I’m at
I go
from bath
to funeral
to bath-

puppet
that made
a fist

its gaze
a eulogy
for distance
the animal
is mostly
pity

I practice sleep, the responsible
silence

–

echo and ear
make
in their many
mirrors
a minor
error

–

anonymouse, common spelling

–

I have nothing
and I have

nothing
on the mailman’s
story
of the burning
stork

–

my son
shares a brain
with his brain
I don’t speak
to those

I tell

on a stage
in a beaten
field
a man
new to walking
is opening
with his hands
the belly
of a shark
that’s eaten
by word of mouth
a local
priest
whose fingernails
miss teeth
like an angel

his inner monologue made of water.

a pill
in a drop
of rain.

a rabbit on a leash. a dead bird
in a woman’s hat.

wind.

my eye for my other
oh town
of Ark.

under the monster’s bed
a child
haunted
by normalcy
gags
on a goldfish
from the painter’s
darkroom

eat
as often
as a squirrel
mad
for the ghost
of a nesting
doll

after
the talking
animals
of body
horror

and before
acolytes
anonymous-

the wrong
dying
baby