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