~ son in bathwater ~

nose to nose, my hands under his armpits and his hands soft and missing. his legs holding onto his feet and the river or the rug pulling away. I haven’t looked at anyone like this. if somewhere a knife slips in and out of consciousness, I don’t care. it will not be news.

~ a diaspora ~

don’t worry, because here is worry:

a stone in a grounded bird’s nest.

it is easy to say, I guess. to come up with
the fed multitudes.

hell is to be in two places at once that are both hell.
see above.

see below:

shade of stone, kind of bird. knowing, here is knowing:

the poor write good.

~ harlequin ~

as a father I audition alone for the part the mother does not get.
to my audition, I carry two eggs. I break them on my chest.

cancer, family, but mostly cancer.
in the cardboard forest, my daughter picks up a wand.

~ a fear of ~

baby on baby
violence
continues to be
the number one
reason

daycares
across the country
do not report
the imaginary
friends

of illegals

~ my father’s singing voice ~

an abandoned dog
on a weekday
shops its grief
from homeless man
to homeless
woman

under threat
of lightning

where else

~ escapism ~

my wife was pregnant with a silhouette. it lost itself to her. it left me out. I began saying sensitive things around women about their bodies so one might trace me. I said lord I thought my life would be sadder. I bought an AK47 because it was the only gun I recognized. I hung it on my neck. my wife used her memory to pluck things from my hands. food, mostly. it helped me realize I was rarely using both hands for the same purpose. my wife began going out at night. said she did so to hate America. when once I tried to join her on the front step I was informed how she missed me but not as much as I believed. she threw bread crumbs into a shuddering bush and I had the feeling it wasn’t new for her. yesterday, I sold the gun to an interested neighbor with a child to protect. he told me my wife’s nightgown is rather sheer but that he’s more concerned with how she carries herself. after hearing that, I don’t think anyone could’ve dragged me to him.

~ angel scene ~

when on the path
some small
unnamed
creature
senses
the oblivious
coming
of a man

and wishes
in its own
animal way
to be called
into ash
or bush

~ immolation ~

when it burns
in the oven
we call it
crow bread

in our mouth
we call it
wasp
then slap

first our own
then the cheek
closest-

when it does not burn
at all
we check to see
if we are wearing
black socks, if we are standing

on carpet

~ kenning ~

he wasn’t put here
to beat you
in front
of any
fool
reminds him
of that woman
who wished herself
into a fly.

he has been more than open with you
about it
about
his reincarnation

how he happened
to be the first
to know it.

you keep it all in, bring your mother
noises

from field
so she can determine
which ear
works…

word association
is a thing
of the future.

be the property of your blood.