Poem
from “Soft Targets”
Don’t blame the wisteria for setting off a feeling like freedom a feeling like joy.
We watched the people walking in the open square—
one of them was a specialist in killing, fear was the way of others.
I’ve seen the most extraordinary thing about people, their faces.
Mechanics of Action
From far away the child’s singing
sounds like the cries of a rat
in the mouth of a python.
For Andreas at Fifteen in Late March
and I’m still
waiting for you
outside some card shop
running the car
Three Poems, Three Watercolors
We thought again of Francisco de Zurbarán’s hands
And if what they held had half the weight
Of beauty and half the heft of truth, his
Beautifully dressed martyrs, ready to wear
Their death, which will continue to remain
Unfashionable
For Alem
He doesn’t know about the boys
she elegizes in poems
Resting beneath waves
bound & thrown there
Chirality
On the other side of the mirror I see that poisoned life, each molecule built so backward even the water became poison.
More precisely: thrashed in the spiral seawater makes between rocks.
Butterfly, web history, thyroid, locked phone, the spill of tablets on the kitchen counter, I carried your child.
Reduced to evidence, the state sees your point: Hispanic female, 35, 208 lbs.
Three Poems
Topaz eye, a hurricane
that rips the pages until the spine sprains,
until the foot on which it spun swells,
until the knee of the wind straightens and extends
until the common tongue pants for dexterity in the air.
Two Poems
I’m lucky, ghostly lucky,
when I start roaming
and recognize the sign on the door.
That’s when I whisper
to the nail, “you know
you little heathen
what you have done,”
Make It So
I heard somewhere that in Ancient Times folks believed the voice inside their heads (their
conscience? consciousness? homunculus?) was god/s
lol
My Poem About Last Sounds
The summer deck is filling with riotous rain pouring down from your hands,
I think. I’m terrible at these supernatural images and you wouldn’t like if I kept it up.
I know you are trying to water the plants, and the seedlings and all of everything
I might have neglected for the last three months while I’m here fucking it all up.
The Holographic Principle
Dutch men explain things to me. Nederlandse mannen zeggen me dat ik de wereld ervaar in drie dimensies, en toch, zeggen Nederlandse mannen me, valt die tweedimensionaal te beschrijven. Dutch men tell me I see the world in three dimensions, but Dutch men tell me we can only solve this in two.
Diary of the Ghost of a Mestiza
Written in the sorcerer’s house mis palabras
are a mutilated palace
spread across a lake.
Preview
There are worldwide, catastrophic storms
When earth’s network
Of weather-control satellites
Is sabotaged by unknown enemies.
The Rabbits
They expressed my desire
To mount and be
Mounted as they scurried
Into the darkest parts of what
Two Poems
every poem I write is about the same thing:
how ordinary it is to want a long line of sunrises,
bowls of oatmeal with you—in other words