Glorious things of thee are spoken!
There should be a word for you

Knowing indifference is earth’s
common constituent, I can take comfort

This is the work of my life, to say with my
body itself You fuckers you cannot
tell me who to kill.

Tide was in when we waded into the idle current.
In a scorpion’s spinal curve, it would tow us miles
into the ocean’s briny green-white surf.

Besides coffee
they plant angels
in my country.

one cup of enraged water
a fry of conquistador helmets
three Jesuit onions

It’s as natural to begin to age
as it is to insist
on chocking the wheels with heads of peonies

I finally broke down and opened the shoebox
which arrived just weeks after my father died.
All winter I had put it out of sight on top

Finally someone just drops it and breaks it
like a mercy killing, the cow butter dish,
it cracks easily into five pieces,

Paint blistering on the ceiling of the den:
Excuses gathered speed, helping no one.
So I walked up the same mountain as before.