Field 48
These first snows, this commerce.
A tree for once, I buried myself in
no time. Watching the sky climb up
itself is a means of knowing we have
yet to entertain, and the star behind our sleep—
neither here nor there, a distraction that is
neither here nor there, a distraction that is
yet to entertain—and the star behind our sleep
itself is a means of knowing we have
no time. Watching the sky climb up
a tree for once, I buried myself in
these first snows, this commerce.
Field 41
Let us run the hard water into the gray field,
bending like PEX pipe in the subterranea.
So there was someone else in the office
and it was required to be proven in triplicate?
Hardly. It was actually more like a person
of a certain province had spoken out
when it was not expected of them,
like pollen a yellow flower in the dark expels.
So there were three people in the office.
About that much we can be certain.
The entrance to the cellar is behind a curtain
and more often than not, I see you there.
Field 26
Dispassionate protocols, attend me:
I am across the valley, sitting like an athlete
in the embouchure through which cattle pass.
Children used to live here but they grew up into me.
I am a fabulous adult. I am already laughing
at my surveillable geriatric heart, which will not survive
the finer and finer articulations of watching and prediction.
But if it is to your liking, I shall tell you of the common
grackle who has built her nest in the wild
fathoms of a sheep’s fleece, that sheep
over there, beyond the annihilated tree
line beyond which there is nothing.