a temporary ailment
between nil and naught
instance of matter
illusion of same
detour this condition
what route to take
no sight to lean on
some arc uncontained
where are we
who loiter through
wherever you are
please know
I need you
*
What falls
when it melts
the ground so minor
the smallest shadow
could cover
one hand to hold
one hand to shape
the wet into place
beneath the rays
that drag the eye
along every shard
and absent trace
*
Aside the level field
of borrowed light
instance of sorrow
spent with the sun
open upon a blaze
deter a frazzled moon
you tilt your mouth
unward and decline
how you move
across the snow
across without sinking
horizon-drawn surface
Things’ Will
Where nothing’ll
burn or even
split
by itself or
in twos
the air has
nothing here
no effect
here
the air is
all around here
things pay it
no mind
will not combust
or divide
become any less
(become any
thing less)
what is there
to learn from this
Gray Easel
—Belgrade
Innermonium
nested before
alkaline
fiefdom
the Danube breaks
your poetry head
erotic effigy
low key factor
in parquet dominance
the crystal chandelier
the Czech crystal
chandelier
cracks no shadow
your armpit as wet
as the Sava
is pissed in
no subway
for the dogs
to navigate
& sleep in
no caskets to raid
nothing floating
lapser of time
you circle the river
with your shin splints
a crane threatens
to hoist you
erect
into facets
the late show of frogs
carving the night
into plasma
polka dots sweat
drag my eyes inside
out
fractions lose their lower
halves
choose not to pose
bohemian
bandanna’d
& drag their sadder selves
the sun
a smallpox scar
armed
in arm in arm
as if a guest
as if a host
as if a friend were to be found
out of focus
amid the background
noise
& raving eye
unstar the seaside
unplug the throat
to listen to what rises
& repeats
in the aftermath
of asphalt & infarct
the lungs refusing
to fill
from the top
the city’s plaster mold
you stuff its cast
with dimes & dinars
hoard its every lack
every spear of smoke
the Sava cannot unriddle you
perforated mass
rototilled from within
voice scraped to a scrap
of a rasp
a grayyard
smeared corpuscle
by
corpuscle
as the sky’s empty promises
canopy the corpses
scratching down
the sidewalk
flint against the blare
that flicks the square
with every blink
of the brain
your poetry head underwater
& gasping for water
to slake my infection
& trim my sight
of all this
minimum
mind