because they have no master
and don’t
overstay
their goodbye.
because in talking
we hid
sound. death
happens more
on land.
it’s enough to give a ghost amnesia, snow like this. we’re pretending to look for his daughter while sharing what he calls a milkman’s cigarette. throw a brick, say touchdown. I might have worked for a mirror. I don’t know where we are or how old his daughter is. lamb of the bunch. blood’s haircut.
no slaughterhouse
ever
moved
by rain
–
my kind
and subtracted
child:
the time
your bottle
spent
in microwaves
–
holograms
–
holograms
that fuck
with my
mirage
some poems from previous collections:
[godspeak]
a lake
on the loss
of its shadow
/ the projection
booth
its tugboat
sorrow
/ bad blood
between
the brothers
mime
~
[omphali]
sometimes
you’re awake
and your son
is awake
and neither
of you
believe
in sickness
the raccoon
mask
of sickness…
no god unkissed, no dirt…
and sleep, sleep
is a priest
whose hilljack
blood
favors
the cult
of the noiseless
ant
~
[memory]
the body
a saying
from birth
I am not done / I carry my son
/ from the bathroom
his mother
died in…
death
didn’t see
a thing
~
[untitled]
what seashell does for ocean
my pillow
will
for hunger.
oh dream,
insomnia’s
wiped out
city…
is this
a stone
or the mating
call
of grief?
~
[sabbatical]
the owl-headed man
what
can he do
in the crocodile’s
dream
of disappearing
lamb
but watch
the egging
of a hearse…
Ohio
a woman
found dead
in a cake
~
[the path]
a tooth fairy sitting on the lap of a cannibal has just intercepted the message meant for my sister’s eating disorder. I like that movies have no future.
~
[divagations for son]
the one
my absence
ceases
to amaze
who eats
the eaten
way
who cares the same
for bird, for gum
the god of where
the chewing’s
done
~
[notes for eggshell]
beneath the tethered astronaut of his dream
the impossible boy
misses
something small
the human ear, its recent
brush
with whale
~
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appetite went from our dog to our cat. from our cat to an animal that had no fight. a tornado took our shoe-store. our sisters were assaulted for no more than ringing dollhouse doorbells. our mothers blindfolded for putting lipstick on the crow. we pissed ourselves and corn set its blood on fire. our weeping our weeping swept.
a copy of my brother’s hand
a dog door
beneath the feet
of christ
pieces of bread
in a broom, a false
wet
tooth
run the disposal for the fat-handed man who’s heard himself think. worship the out-of-body mother as you would a curfew from your past. ghost for angel.
they don’t tell you
when you have a baby
about the shrinking
babies
do.
we bought a smaller bird
but few
noticed.
we made friends, women
with lights
on their shoes, men
sold
on mittens…
we sent nudes
to the author
of babies
eat
sleep.
our mailman
he caught us
dancing
and threatened us
with an audiobook
on baptism
and that
was the end
of mail.
we sold headgear
we volunteered
to sell
headgear, put an ashtray
on the roof
as lure
for longing
that
of memory’s
narc…
when I say church
she says
widow
then admits
it wasn’t
her first
thought
was church
mine
where is bird
bird
hospital
do zombie
young
ever
crawl
kingsoftrain 