Monthly Archives: October 2007

Bear or other? The wilds of Western PA

Which if you have ever seen Deerhunter, look nothing like that movie.

And here’s a baby bear:

And here’s something else:

Take your pick…Sasquatch or bear or Olson twin?

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Thrush culled, not the whisper of

You have gone on
again into Casa Video
in your pajamas

& forgotten the name
for whatever cassette tape
could have been brought

home. A handful
of popcorn in your teeth
& the desert

screaming its summer
through the streets, lined
white with orange

blossoms. Your
hesitant steps. A hand
full of popcorn

in the breeze & good
titles for what happens
when we all go off

into the sepia-toned
mountains. Our notion
of silence & what

sayings belong to
the self. A lone wire
hanger in a closet

holding a pair of pants
that can’t be thrown out
or given away or worn

again. What can you
say to that door hiding it?
Or what can you quit

saying–pass through
me, too? The moon hung
in the day looks just

out of place, high
& blank in the sky. You know
nothing could suffice.

r.i.p. JA

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autumning

When bells have stilled
and the dead tongues of stone
sit named and etched with dates:
an apple gets cored by ants.

When the sun dances
on old headstones, a noose
unravels: disarmed – the rope
comes free from its branch.

Our national time passes slow.

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translated a running stream and repetition of red

Son, I wake up and I’m a fly in the shower, above the water with so much thin and brave diamonds swearing their apology. Stoplight in the relative—his humid mouth and red. The relative red color and the angles of soundless sleep. The alone control, son. Wire, I awake to flight in the downpour—to leave—to go the lines. Plants of consolidation and the jesters of a shoe. O it will be supposed that you remember who, good of timber, it was absent from the hearth. It is a locked month of payments—bathed mouth and the relative red color—the calculation and the platform barriers it. The single direction, wire, from one state to another, developed of individual where we are all levitating in our feet. What it has colored the gas-carried aircraft to go. In the corners sleep one inter-country that is built by one single house. Singed the exits sleep whole numbered and hold onto the hinges. This part is always wide and hot, but none can climb under the reticular mesh, the night—can climb in bottom the grid at night, threads wake I the flight. A piece of clothing that it peels behind. The relative red color I center. Thus red of the stoplight in the relative one—keeping better in the articulations and the important persons. Down it I drip off? Peels that he says it and is transmitted to the sky with small brass band, with small sheet metal music. Put together with beautiful precision.

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