1. observing for seizures during the storm
the medicine has to be given during a hurricane so the mothers fathers and their babies gather on the island: a bitter tourism. planes laden with tensely watched children and parents poised to catch them arrive in the gravid air to a merciless economy of hope. the lights will fade as the electricity fails but the dose must be administered when the wind has risen, the trees are bending and as the eye approaches but hasn't passed over. there isn't much that can be done say the doctors so go here. stay off the beaches they say. even after the storm men will try to sell you things. especially after the storm.
the medicine has to be given during a hurricane so the mothers fathers and their babies gather on the island: a bitter tourism. planes laden with tensely watched children and parents poised to catch them arrive in the gravid air to a merciless economy of hope. the lights will fade as the electricity fails but the dose must be administered when the wind has risen, the trees are bending and as the eye approaches but hasn't passed over. there isn't much that can be done say the doctors so go here. stay off the beaches they say. even after the storm men will try to sell you things. especially after the storm.
***
2. npo
the man's
head was
apart
from his body
and a hoop
passed
around it
and through
the space
where his
neck should
have been.
a magic
trick
called
headless
man.
***
3. expatriate
she pressed her fingers into the
dorsum of my hand and said
this is how we ask for things in my country.
she wanted the book I was reading.
I wanted to give her everything.
to be penniless.
that's how well she asked.
it was routine for her.
a transaction. a handshake.
from a land of caresses
folding into gestures
where language is a bat the
size of a child's heart fluttering
just past the threshold of your house.
your ankles in long grass then shallow water.
white smoke unfurling through
the branches of a flowering fruit tree.
the skeleton of a cloud over
the framework of a hawk.
the main thing their stories say is:
this is my home. this is what it's like to be me.
no one should go there
because they'll be happily paupered
and not welcomed back to this land of
gold, paper, and deeds.
Yet when I try to think of a place
that she'll survive away from me
I can't think of one.
***
4. Swarm versus Herd
The swarm says
don't scare me I
won't think its
funny.
The herd says
there's not
enough clutter.
The swarm says
we are thankful
for forgiveness.
Otherwise we
would be a
lost and lonely
little soul.
The herd says
at the core
of the tangle
is a knot.
The swarm says
we are
a stuntman.
We are
a flag.
Seeds don't
assault
the air
this way.
If they did
the trees
from those
seeds would
turn actively
towards the sun.
The herd says
it wasn't
really a hit
and run. It
happened too
fast for that.
It was barely
noticeable.
The shape
of thunder.
The lightning.
The lightning's
ankles.
***
5. Church Ghosts
I'm a man who's
just beginning to
enjoy his life.
Eating drinking
and loving
but desiring less.
The implied shape
of something
under the snow.
Soon there will be
no one who can explain
what it was like
to be my parent.
Soon I will
be alone.
Soon I will be
the parentless
parent.
As long as there are
only three things to miss
my mourning will
be manageable.
And so by learning
to categorize
my grief
will be contained.
What do you get
when you buy a church?
The ghosts of the
religious dead.
You drown where you drown--
Unable to leave a place
without anticipating
the deaths of the
ones you're visiting.
Not a premonition but a
melancholy acknowledgement.
***
6. love letter 4: magic trick inventor
she invents magic tricks
but can't conjure.
the swimming
then drowned horse.
the rider made of ink
who melts down the horse's
flanks and remakes
the white beast into
a palomino as it rises
from the river.
she taps on walls
listens for doorways.
she was named by
her father
her mother
her brother
she answers to all of those names
she answers to none of those names
she was exiled from
a country that doesn't
allow magic.
she was arrested
and hauled off in a truck.
describe the truck.
I have no poetry.
describe the truck.
she gestures.
her rogue
fingertips flutter.
she motions to me:
it was grey
the inside was dark
then I was here.
2. npo
the man's
head was
apart
from his body
and a hoop
passed
around it
and through
the space
where his
neck should
have been.
a magic
trick
called
headless
man.
***
3. expatriate
she pressed her fingers into the
dorsum of my hand and said
this is how we ask for things in my country.
she wanted the book I was reading.
I wanted to give her everything.
to be penniless.
that's how well she asked.
it was routine for her.
a transaction. a handshake.
from a land of caresses
folding into gestures
where language is a bat the
size of a child's heart fluttering
just past the threshold of your house.
your ankles in long grass then shallow water.
white smoke unfurling through
the branches of a flowering fruit tree.
the skeleton of a cloud over
the framework of a hawk.
the main thing their stories say is:
this is my home. this is what it's like to be me.
no one should go there
because they'll be happily paupered
and not welcomed back to this land of
gold, paper, and deeds.
Yet when I try to think of a place
that she'll survive away from me
I can't think of one.
***
4. Swarm versus Herd
The swarm says
don't scare me I
won't think its
funny.
The herd says
there's not
enough clutter.
The swarm says
we are thankful
for forgiveness.
Otherwise we
would be a
lost and lonely
little soul.
The herd says
at the core
of the tangle
is a knot.
The swarm says
we are
a stuntman.
We are
a flag.
Seeds don't
assault
the air
this way.
If they did
the trees
from those
seeds would
turn actively
towards the sun.
The herd says
it wasn't
really a hit
and run. It
happened too
fast for that.
It was barely
noticeable.
The shape
of thunder.
The lightning.
The lightning's
ankles.
***
5. Church Ghosts
I'm a man who's
just beginning to
enjoy his life.
Eating drinking
and loving
but desiring less.
The implied shape
of something
under the snow.
Soon there will be
no one who can explain
what it was like
to be my parent.
Soon I will
be alone.
Soon I will be
the parentless
parent.
As long as there are
only three things to miss
my mourning will
be manageable.
And so by learning
to categorize
my grief
will be contained.
What do you get
when you buy a church?
The ghosts of the
religious dead.
You drown where you drown--
Unable to leave a place
without anticipating
the deaths of the
ones you're visiting.
Not a premonition but a
melancholy acknowledgement.
***
6. love letter 4: magic trick inventor
she invents magic tricks
but can't conjure.
the swimming
then drowned horse.
the rider made of ink
who melts down the horse's
flanks and remakes
the white beast into
a palomino as it rises
from the river.
she taps on walls
listens for doorways.
she was named by
her father
her mother
her brother
she answers to all of those names
she answers to none of those names
she was exiled from
a country that doesn't
allow magic.
she was arrested
and hauled off in a truck.
describe the truck.
I have no poetry.
describe the truck.
she gestures.
her rogue
fingertips flutter.
she motions to me:
it was grey
the inside was dark
then I was here.
