The attorneys general, the lawyers
private, the aides-de-camp
of Jefferson, West/more-land:
groves, avenues, beachside courting.
Eaves dropping to a flatter: a crack
in the thread—was it worth it
and what it was. Worth, Bond, Wall,
pellucid fictions reentered by
the grace of dreams.
Covering Dixie in Tagalog for tribute,
a draft horse felled—a riotous heat.
Fracturing, whistling identities,
a whistling shot inside
a tired foot: the chosen
fatigue’s color, July day.
First, evil whispers from me, from
me and my blow-
holed, island fife.
This will never happen there, whatever
the new toleration for
the American sinister.
Spare bought tissue
at the ferry’s New York dock,
I think I thought I was
an anti-lyric, song’s distant displace.
Affairs and meals merchandised in
It’s a quality of my work, a derangement.
of hand to pants, the ample stolen
up and against;
Piled, pelting ice.
Caleb the Canine, yonder window-plane,
iridescent yellows, playing the glass.
Sung-spoke in soloist intimacy, to a deaf
tune, “Doggie, pretty doggie”, why they
call it–The Stroll. It’s Montgomery and it
isn’t, back of yolk-yellow signage, has it
now turned a Hunter-Green? They can
capitalize on a color, in a few words
when repeated, often enough, is simple
jingling. His hair-curls, off-white white,
my dress shirts never looked so white.
Sung-spoke out of a tube whitening
my tar-stained smile; black is how I like
it, after dinner for a treat. What’s on
the menu, it’s rough out there, Caleb,
just now skewered, for timeliest
perfection; yonder window-plane
Caleb, but be careful of that fleece.