Out of the imagination.
Out of the brooding brain.
Out of the urban nest, lined in desires scaveng'd from

Wherefore the cutworm, that consumeth not what he
   destroys,
that sunders below the leaf, that razes at the spindle,

One fist made I lower my sights
to the left hand the sinister one. I count
now the misfortunes of my neighbour.

And Neptune the king of the mists
out there beyond the reaching finger of Jesus.

Look at the eyes, burnished black beads
and the sharp yellow of the beak and inside

Something draws me to you the tug of experience
In the emporium of your remembered taste and touch.

local knowledge is to live in a place
and know the place
however barren

1956: She is the girl with the biggest
breasts in Sloan, Iowa. She will take
a backseat to no one. He is young

the biggest bore in town
arrives at my party
as if he were invited

and begins to tell me
the details of what a terrible
time he had getting here

but it was worth it he says
and I know he will be
the last to leave

and Dear Little Mother do not think
only of yourself your suffering