Having darkened my hand with dark ink in
an age when close and
distant are cloudy unaided having
made so much that no

body wants to eat I wait for the latest
historic storm and the
scrape and salt that wakes us too early
or too late

model mountains pen in
sugared cars I try to

lift the snow with a wave
of homemade rhythm into
sky like berries almost black

but do I fracture some rule with
this spell how many feet do I have

to long for long-lasting mud
and the birds who

visit though we won’t learn
their names this year

either but the tracks lead
to a curve turning

back on itself with a smile
the breath leaves

green leaves shake

so let’s finish off the crackers
and call them
cookies we can watch
a movie through the neighbor’s
window just
balance on this skull

that sentimental day we recite our atrocities a la mode
which rhymed at the time though not in retrospect

 

they say it may never be untied though
will serve as a warning to newcomers
peddling some dewey gospel

 

the car wouldn’t start as we had not
calculated for the variance in the
new gravity and its effect on the ancient
components that likely will take

 

weeks to fabricate but if you’re still with
me we can descend into the canyon
and investigate the rumors
of this miraculous vegetable

 

like drawing a hand with the hand that’s drawing the hand