I am I-821 and I-765, or a half-hour morning drive to paper the walls of the cramped space of a Salvadoran consulate,
Notice of Reaction
Evening Opus; Lake of Perfect Ice; Letting Go; Sweeping Government Sidewalks
Let it fly, quiet wings, whose wisdom advises you leave those insignificant battles behind, walk graveyards to understand the bones.
How to Mourn Your Violent Father; The Rocks You Lifted; The Honeymooners; The Work of the Dead; Campbell’s Soup
...let the morning fog roll in as it had from the heaving ocean
up the block from your childhood home,
now a ghost town you are loathe to visit.
Portrait of a Young Moroccan Barber; So Why These White Weights; Four Little Diptychs; So, What’s in the Strip; At Mother Theresa’s,
Everybody gets the same cut, no matter the plea, the magazine coiffures thrust forth; it’s always just like his: pompadour full on top, tapered crew buzzed on all sides.
The Old Packard; Willem de Kooning, Police Gazette, 1955; How To Deal With An Intruder; Tineola Bisselliella: Common Laundry Moth
I think Mr. de Kooning, if he’s still alive, is the one who needs a psychiatrist. Or maybe he’s in jail, which is why he named the painting the Police Gazette.
Embodied; Mining; Natural Position; Writing to Miles
I don’t know why I’m here, walking on fissured tar bubbled by roots.
Who knows what else this great disturbance of earth awoke?