Tuesday 122: Poem

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThe alley, going on



The neighbors
put down astro-turf
and had a wild party.
Heads turn
like potted plants,
hunched, hideous. Cosmology
makes me suck my teeth.

Body is a shape
that holds. A dead fish,
a cookbook swollen by rain.

I’m no longer my room,
where I kept
books in the fireplace.
Who lived there
before me sits
in the same light, calm
as passing cars.
I X out his name.
I obliterate
with a strike to the pith.

One crow,
psychic velvet, freezes
in my stare.
I close my eyes
and black bears
shadow
across a tilled field.