First words out of my mouth he say: My, my, you're not from around here. Every bone cry hie you hence but in uniform he's out of this world. Brass chicken hawk on brick wall exposed read fifty degrees....
Daydreaming is roller-skating backwards to a couples' song with a red jean banana bag—alone, not thinking—tons of lights on iodine-looking walls. Wallflower girl couples and the County Fair daisies, roses on their cheeks crack when she goes by so her banana bag ...
Greet me in a dead tongue when I rise from my sunken bed—Godana dag! (Gothic). Mama's here, my necromantic swamp, good evening all afternoon....
Open the great red drapes—three dozen brass rings clattering on a brass rod above the picture window where I, nearly sixteen, wait in a splash of clothes on a plush, carved settee while the Berlin Wall...
My daughter molds a gun from bread. Why do gods make us eat? Witness divine stovetop resurrection of yesterday’s sides! I scrape my plate. August, so long, sweat ...