Having you see her often tell me, reflexive,
brazed, silver eye-teeth metier

in the land of gaslight, undoing the insoluble
avenue commemorating General

Slocum’s Disaster Centennial, posted to the
Herald, glowing twinned,

the facetop on a second track,

banded distended through a brass ear
trumpet playing,

what Billy Sue meant to mean to Bobby Jo.

Cemetery Charles

Flying in from America, cruder contours’
rotted contents, rooting jokes, sequencing

hoax to puzzle,

dimmer, the least comprehending body.
Chief Librarian of Oswiecim—What do you

call…how does a…how many will it take…

damned (redbelly) punch. Moroccan salt-
curl, taffy twisters, pealing bells, early


and hormonal cataloging with sex, with
sound. Clicking off, clicked off, the

stern gang, alienated, considering the
classified patience of East Amwell

desires a nightless sleep at home-tables,
a radiating thought: over-turning skulls


Hamsun’s pale harbor companion, hand-
ling reported the fact of his thirst;

peaked isolation of her headscarves’

Stairwell Number

A large, red-grey twist of paper topics,
basted in liquid, sweat, chimney, smoke,

and folktales.

Lead, miniature, unthinking filling a
pocket false, adjudicating a length

of denim dungarees.

The form shaken, set atop a form un-given,
as charcoal swiped down hard, revaluing

this commitment, dark below a narrowing
slate, aboard a hospital

corridor’s sloop, worthy, yet by an abstruse
series of monographs


a season in kind at my index fingertip
moves fallen, out of faith,


managing blessing properties
all too tenuous

bearing of a mournful song.