I Bend
I bend the barbed wire true I balance the nail in a hole
already in the wall (snow worn in the path to the woodpile)
(flowers first in the path to the woodpile) I cook on low to
heat the house (leaving your house even the cut grass
smelled of basil)
—
there is no restoration only rest for what is the compass
needle refines until precision blurs (to say it and it won’t
become information) (ethics meaning don’t summarize)
forgot to send you the book read it myself again (rainwater
on the roof tarp) (it’s not for drinking)
* * * * *
Fruit in the Borrowed Home
fruit in the borrowed home ages in places selected for
aesthetics peach deep in the pit of an orange vase
cherries on the dictionary mark my word with a stem (it
isn’t music it helps you hear it) (what barely coheres
testifies most to coherence) wind activates the motion
alarm
—
a pier from a pile across the street a kid dumps bacon
grease in the Family Dollar lot (the one key on my chain
could have any name) (marriage divorce ambulette disco nap vole)
the first naturally grown human wings were wooden wings
in rain
* * * * *
Snow Years
your age in snow years is how many years you’ve seen it (at
a window) (on a car) your snow birthday is when how
many years you’ve seen it is the same as how many years
you have left (I had a snow birthday once) (it’s been
snowing ever since)
—
so the match burns down and you shake the burn from your
hand what animal does that call (petals and glass in
gravel and moss) (like snow in a crocus flute) (or valleys
in gospel tunes) given the shortness of life it’s fine to act
like it’s longer or nothing (a house with one doorknob)
(move it room to room)