To ditch oneself
among the state-park

shangri-las, little
squander, little arval

& what a rusty spread

I took my pulped heart camping
no one would kill me there

Dusty jars of marshmallow bait
flush toilets, just off the interstate

The missus shuffles, her mister cuts the deck
they’ve poured concrete & aim to winter here

No matter

I’ve got an inland trick to learn
it goes like this: you disappear

There are powers

There are secret passageways

Sometimes all the crickets in a single valley
go off, so

To pull out the stops
is an organist’s job

What I hear
in this air

is an old theater
full of galvanized dead

They play that organ like a drum
no one can stop such singing

& everyone in history who got hacked to bits
is stitched

& I’m off like a firecracker