his mother lets it go on the roof of a hospital about the kids she saw ******* in a grocery cart.
proof
yearns.
~
[root]
I left quietly the pet store of haunted animals.
a drifter preaching polyamory took mental note of my appearance.
a man was my father.
~
[outer life]
they’d say his head was hard because it was too small for god to kiss. when he’d come into town, he’d leave with children we’d not seen except on posters. his welcome mat was a napkin spotted with blood from a Q-tip. save for the tiny matter of Jesus, our parents gave him little to do.
~
[the bridge]
let me not pray for this man who captured on film
for the last time in its environment god’s bed. let me not
be consumed by this man’s return to the inexact art of home. let me obsess
instead over a portrait of myself trapped by aging, let me grow
to my waist my hair might it burn might I then
to the accumulation of sight and sight’s potential
bow
~
[captions]
underling animals in times of quake /
slight swellings
in brain of maybe one mole
bottled now for sea /
if on a baby your hands would be
so cute
but as an adult
you glove them /
world as wheelchair the wheelchair from which
god rose /
as sporadic surges switch on
the sink’s disposal
pull thorns from the rabbits you dream
~
[I saw my youngest brother born]
I saw his mouth. I thought he’d ripped.
~
[the small]
I acquired you as an infant from a gentleman who needed parts for a radio he planned to invent. listening to his radio was a long way off. you sat early. you called me mother before I was ready. if I was good, you’d play a videocassette to watch it dream. I looked at stars and you were a toddler. our life was life on other planets until the gentleman returned. he said he’d seen satan in a space suit and that satan had given him signs of ****** abuse. you were not unrecognizably depressed but did start a fire in a photograph.
~
[cure]
the dark, the ocean.
I have two reasons to believe god has not stopped creating.
-
our father had this phrase
all in good time psychic
-
my anger has gone the way of the milkman.
his doomed child with her piece of chalk.
~
[bait]
I didn’t see it like some kids saw it-
pain as clay.
a swat here or there to the back of a mother’s mind.
a man who took a bowling ball into a closed garage had no sadness I could pray over.
...Santa smoked on the roof of my father’s house while I with a noiseless stomach
touched that hunger.
~
[how to live in the country dark]
toss frogs into a fire your father made.
find a woman who’s abandoned herself to being led by a stick, let
her blind mongrel lick your palm.
bury a handful of gravel call it the moon’s grave.
hide in houses hidden from road.
make at least one friend whose night vision is a glass of milk.
double your body by walking drunk.
~ [irrevocably child]
pressing a cigarette into the double absence of what has become the snowman’s mouth the woman begs for a light…
it is a thing done softly in a larger movement of searching belly-up the nowhere
that sober looks funny alone
~
[tell it to my brother]
a widow with three hands has ten doomed acquaintances.
god’s tacklebox is too light to carry.
think of it as your ascent into feminine indifference.
think of your son as the incurable made thing
on the factory floor of my son’s use.
a male mime bites into a bar of soap…
*** is a bruise in a blizzard
~
[mendicant]
this doorbell is for the inside of your house
-
to some you’re the giant you’re not
-
hearing isn’t for everyone
-
a fog-softened man with a baby might experience a sense of boat loss…
-
hurt
what you know
~
[crystal]
a foster boy using an alias teaches my son to shoot.
it’s the tooth fairy on a sad day finds under my pillow a handgun.