Bandolier

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

approval

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 by

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

peaked isolation
of her headscarves’
frames.

Stairwell Number

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

folktales.

Lead miniature, unthinking filling the
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 narrowed
slate aboard a hospital

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

aborted,

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

petitioning,

managing blessing properties
all too tenuous—

bearing of a mournful song.