my emptiness has a lake in it   deep and watery 
with several temperaments      milk   cola  beer 

at night the selves are made of water 
all the openings flooded    streaming with rain 

Catastrophies beyond our true renown
Conscript us out of heaven till we stand
Embattled in our customs, going down.

The hooded cobra floating over the leaves
indescribably deceives,
flicking his delicate forked tongue in rings

      The scree in the crevasse
              thaws an impasse
      for all but what descends

It started like this:
    A plain of yellow and green, 
                    supporting Conestogas.

The first day of the new year brings new additions to the public domain.

That was a pretty one, I heard you call
From the unsatisfactory hall
To the unsatisfactory room where I

It clings like a sheath-dress, 
this synthetic softness 
all of us wear in the office.

One morning the stove decided not to cook.
The children were startled.
The stove had always cooked—

 Yes, the zucchinis grow heavy and wicked,
and yes, a porcupine parses the orchard
one rummy apple at a time.