the world
his lifted wings were
invisible to all who knew
the broom as broom
the pleasurable eddies
of the Big Bang
the broad sweep
of time across the floor
the updraft of memory
those who knew
felt the swoop
of Father’s wings
saw them raised in quaking splendour as
he created from the spasms
of his tiny body
the rippling laughter
the swept-clean ghost
don’t do it, I said
choosing a piece of toast
a perfect fried egg
but she unhooked her jaw
and swallowed the sun
now it was really dark
and she stood up from the table
breakfast was over
I couldn’t find my running shoes
or my briefcase hand
my dreams were of the moon spitting
as I tried to play chess
my abdomen was a sand dune
shaped by the wind
into the grains of a million
directionless games of beach volleyball
an infinite number of piglets
gnawed on my fingers, which were sprouting
uncomfortably from every orifice
there was no coffee
the paperboy crawled up the stairs
then ran away
bakers made bread but the yeast didn’t care
and nothing rose
the day passed
my wife called friends
arranged a carnival
crocheted a thunderstorm while I slept
she made lunch in darkness
used the bones of the dog to retread
the parson’s tires
and the sun
a hero with but one vast and burning face
travelled all day
through the sparkling labyrinth of my wife
when it was time
she lay on the lawn
and the sprinkler kicked in
we watched a brass band founded by groundhogs
overturn glasses of milk
birds flew from our mailbox
and her friends gathered round
don’t do it, I said in my sleep
it’ll be the end of you, I said
but my wife was already writhing
making divots in the sod
her left leg thrashed
then split the picnic table in two
fast-food wrappers filled the sky
and the swimsuits of the ancients
released their chlorine
I woke from my thousand-year slumber to see
the sun
born from the womb of my wife
daylight returning
blinkless and new
OPTICS, METEOROLOGY AND GEOMETRY
I accept nothing
as true
I carry my thoughts
a long way
I consider the difficulties
I leave nothing out
unless it
recognizes me
I avoid the rain
I try to love the snow’s blank stare
I must remember to dismember
the moribund hopscotch of my guffaw
my cortical scrabble
the angelic bread-breeder wisdom
that clouds the knees
Was there ever a time when
the mailbox was corpulent with spent fish
my tongue a horror of patchwork facemask bosons
stalemate boomerang fortitude clogging my arms?
But I expect you’ve heard about
the moving elbows of my attempts to multiply
my skin set upon a mast
and the shapely blade of water
creasing my cow-friendly
chest hairs in the crepuscular zither
Ride with me in the woodblock
a premonition
