U.S. Blues

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.