like a game show or some other excusefor selling toothpaste. Wish I could remember who said that,
If someone was kind enough to take us driving out to the long roadsthat veered away from cornfields to the farms, pig roasts & parties
I look at you with my vexed eye.I look at you with my hostile eye.I look at you with my hostile and vexed eye.My hostile, vexed eye is a wrench.
Only a torso now, the headlong severed from the neck, pelvistwisted off like a stubborn root.
I wish we were livinga story of desire, butI don’t feel Odysseus beating out his taleof longing at the oars
Forever you find
your fatherin other faces—
a balding head or beard enoughto send you following
A stifling heat—the air heavy—and all around the loud, wet forest knotting the gaps in its own sound.
A peace long earned, then broken;
Cutting down Chambers St.
my pinky toenail comes clean off.
Another little ghost
What if each timeyou caused paina small, round stonewas put in your pocketpebbles for inducingself-doubt
That one smelled like a Bradford pear you said.