UNTITLED IMITATION POEMS
Glowing cottages at dusk.
You are a pyromaniac.
But I am just another thief of fire.
What useless ubiquity are poets.
What spent utensils like
Diced lamplight through screens
Falling like majestic brass
Or sometimes dirge draining
Onto private yards. Legions
Of realists’ greeny bowels. Dreamers.
Same thing.
*
Pigs! Scabs! Heat!
Hideous midweek recreations
So much gangland insignia
Men of much eloquence
Arrayed in a tight curl
Solve the muse and
Skirmishes resume
Doing devotions
Stapling badges to breasts
Burning with jealousy
To petition blessings
That’s where, that’s when
Things get strangely downright
*
Shopping carts scrape
Through the neighborhood
On recycling night
Furrows in transponder coverage
*
This benevolence called boy
Is mottled is a puddle
Of ciphers of enormous
Incidents of principle
*
No more spats with ulterior reality!
No more tonic!
*
No more time of day!
No more choke points!
*
A long moment of flat earth
And then the putrescible
Creep of the cliff