Rust in seaside wood and land

rediscover soul more than name
while bog dismantle bark

challenge the corridor demand
how bitten I am
overhoused by theme

for some reason our account got

arrows following relay box graffiti
mornings inclement lurk

a horse rented by the hour
unravel the wallet a borough dislodge
the sled we disorient

woke and they were digging

pointed night propel the sailboat rigging
gentle ballad object and my father

an arcade of empire at frenzy’s mute
my mother disappears into
come ashore after I soak and wash the gun

nap in a sack of combat

like a note of cold water
the duckling orange wind

says cherry says rockslide
a cherry flavor lengthened scalpel
rings and say you too

six bullets wait for an outlaw

he has been here
stinking up a leather geography                        

Hungry to get bright cloud I’m headless

I yell up god though the only snakes
identical what the sun treads

nightly initiate in the mercy of arrival
I’m a reporter for Rolling Stone
half rodeo’d into this perished forest

I thundereth in the orchard the bed

go sloppy against careless gale
irresistible as break of day

I carry a few coins in my pocket bright song
intone a terrible array of last gestures
in the gloom that last saw him

commence on the instep

a long troubled artistry
that has not been heard from since

what I carry is rock scoured white
why there is a good driven word for it
and its North American equivalent

like the stop action uncertainty of markets

restless tying into what’s consequential
the manner in which people talk around a child

how my father refuses to give his cat a name
responds to comments about it crawling
tabby beneath the bed or claw the quilt

irritably responds to what is and what is

not of consequence one cannot avoid moving
college students smoking on a porch
What is the silence for it

wholly identical to itself
if it find saltine night

a gnaw we call thought
or does it decide not to belong
as if tree were antler

or bear a portrait

a framed calm
I hearted the city bound for a moment

mush of traffic’s puddle
my hair too at sunset smooth
next will rarely sidereal plod

still reinforced by ferry

nicked or interlaced having truth
not x but age

like plastic it knows no way to die
goes under or becomes lit water
I was nothing coming into this name

or whatever is called

the nameless avenue that cuts
a long pillow again

the sky’s wet
hard ancient feet at her gate
bugs scuttle home

our bare brief jeweled guitar

goes gone bright unknown
wilderness lands to write what songs

grease left on a fork
a king carries groceries
along the frontage road

lickweed blooms in the yard

branches cover the house’s abandonment
behind it down as if to heaven

last glimpse going in
echo clouded I look up
from my work

what am I allowed to know

close a soft years I hear rain
sharp as a closed knife

which is a condition of sorrow
some words into a soonafter
forgotten in the tallgrass

rusts beside a draft horseshoe

foul a shape of a horse
in backyard dark year drawn out

they led me to the disturbance
to share what she was before
when she tells me category intervene

or sleep a close retreat

I swore at them I dropped my cup
at a vehicle on a shoulder

or sunken log submerged

sweat turns everything
which is my cure

What forces are being collected

against my animated face
apparition red scratch

by whom I can’t tell face in the dark
and as far as body is concerned
no more than a candle burnt on a chair

or clothes worn by my father

a picture like other pictures
as in the cabin we cook or eat raw

beast and bee sting the door shall open
roll for my part I feel forced to fall back
hard for inquirer to hold at least there is

no resulting injury I can read and write

I’ve not been schooled much
imperfect and fluctuating like an inner door

it never enters my head or otherwise
known only to myself a long remain
high fence I fall ill lurid and scattered

and yet the scratch on the cheek

where the bones are laid is the way home
wind on the surface of the sea what mind

these images originate I am getting
older just as I begin to speak