do you clap when it arrives in crumpled
corrugated cardboard dropped on the steps
of your demand and expectation—me?
I long to hear the soft song of
the box cutter the little sigh
as light uncovers the gifts of darkness
but enough of my many weaknesses
let’s upgrade our kitchens hats and bookshelves
lounge in the recycled air gulp supplements
unthinking of the debt and folks living
in fire and try to laugh since we never
got the hang of writing protest songs
since the selfie came out blurry
giving that mosquito my cheek
to suck its snack while the old crows
guffawed my self-promotion by
the abandoned railroad tracks may
not have been my finest moment
so in this phlegmy rain I wait
for the final ferry and this
may be the encephalitis
talking but I feel I grow fat
or waste on the food of strangers’
thumbs as I grope
in the dark for
a light so you
can learn my name
and I freeze no matter how fancy the pen or the whisky it’s all the same my lost shoes they say this winter the victims will write history
please ask me to
kill for you ask
me to imprint
each foot with the
ridges of my
best teeth ask me
to comb the clouds
into candy
for the joy of
toothless trash cans
throughout the land
down smooth stone steps crumble the story hide it under a centipede’s unused foot walk home shedding your skin like the moon the next morning build a fire unlock all the doors
my burning eyes how do I escape from
I and all this time in circles
not wanting to make punchlines or
origami and the balloon
losing air we could have put to some use
cracking what joints I have left and pulling the sword from the stone in my kidney but just kidding we will have to form an orderly queue after all
who knows if this design will agree to
finally fly but the caves in
the round curves of the vast rolling
hills of the summer clouds call so
sweetly to the lonely bird in my chest
other animals 