On the Watch for Scarlet Oak

life after party
i miss a state fast

they’re calling it
a brand new thing

if every day i die very early
looking for lunch

our chicken seasoned
our garlic salt

olive oil! not a lot of olive oil
but olive oil

often left feeling
i wish i weren’t from here

someone piles the rocks
a bunch of people do

the attic’s full of flowers
there’s a violet too

any solid color will do
any shade of blue

nobody knows that
most people know that

single lane tunnel view
ahead! bridge, park reflect
half dome, balanced rock

white face mountain
and they sure are
and it really does

well
come on down to the Sure-Can Cook-Fast

Our Lady Is Burning Down
inspired by something she says
‘who are you, ‘i never lie
‘you’re the cute couple everyone’s talking about
the Horror
at the same time obscene
his abysmal charisma
left warming

June Collapses
Today it’s thirty

list view
mirror
registration
glove box lid

You will need to call AAA and request service your number is

Don’t want to live forever, do you
Just want to see the end of it
Don’t want to be from nowhere
Just rather you didn’t hear about it

a little heat, a little sweet

no one’s gonna save your folks
no one’s gonna save you, folks
no one’s got your interests at heart

STRETCHED FROM HERE TO HERE

we can do what we want
we can say what we want
if it’s supposed to be our night than we can do what we want to

ok
but that is something to say

april falls on monday, after hours
indebted to marianne

the highway kind of kills it
all i can hear is the highway

an envy of logistics
but their position is

we must walk the whole way
and there is really no other way

our lady is burning down
from out the water runs
in uns and dates it sinks

the holy one was right all along
but only one hour will count
scattered to sacred song

Dawn: only the mountain
the moon touches a pine with snow

what to do about the age old problem
there’s something really wrong here

against the snowfall
to the white
chrysanthemum
the long night

Spring: the one dead chance
holding water, the mud

they say the british cannot fix a thing
without dinner

every branching twig
we hold each
other close
in the fading light

it doesn’t matter where you are on this planet
surrounding you totally’s this ambient hum

Dawn: loosened leaf by leaf
a spider climbs a white curtain
a blue heron over a long straight road

RARE ORCHIDS, THE GLOBULAR
CLUSTER MESSIER THIRTEEN

among the fallen leaves
a bird who seems to know me

it’s the summer of 1992
Utz adds a second pretzel oven

bit by bit the wind machine
swallows the ends of the grass

within me will be the reason
instead life today

Michael Smith, 47
scours the West Papuan
Mountains for rhododendrons

I watched a crane
standing on one leg
arms folded

The snail
soaking up the moon
the silence of paper

And an old sparrow
flying on a broken wing

Stars would fall to their knees
and who will ever answer

Jones pass
and shaughnessies
first set to see

through the autumn mist
look! a branch
breaking!

An abandoned meander

I don’t wanna do anything
And I don’t wanna do nothing

What’s more American than camping

THE HEAT, IN THE WIND
WHEN IT BENDS, IN A GLASS JAR

sealed off from the world
one falls further
and further behind

utterly still
the blue jay cries utterly
what i am

it’s a wonder
the red maple
doesn’t take
the sky’s whole
silence

used by everybody
repudiated by nobody

whatever
i wanted to say
the wind machine listens

growing oats growing corn growing wheat
always so affectionate and kind

we move in and out
of each other like things
that aren’t there

like a sleepless night
in every room the goldfish
swimming back and forth

the first apple to be carried in a bag
utterly i cried utterly what i am
toyota burble / bike flashing light

nameless again the rebecca lilly
insists on blooming

she and to her the do like
it’s one of it also had
deeming it both
existing without
saying so

even fog
the softly slammed
door

the silence of the wind machine
the deep worn path
by the stream
disappears into the grass

yourself composed
isn’t wisdom
is no yours so deeply so

wet snow
wet sycamore
our old dog Autumn Storm
in between our silver spiderwebs
and pinches of goldfish food

The Cleaning Fee

is whats getting all of us

we got married in a church
of a million times yes

two kinds:
me and everyone else

the subtitles are right there
backwards and at an angle
where’s the camera