Strategy Not Protocol

I forgot whose house it was
that’s how it smells amazing.
It smells amazing.
It smells amazing.
It looks amazing.

Mario, I’ll sing
you can say it’s the rat’s door on this one
you want it.

You don’t mean to
but you leave her body parts around.
At dusk a neon sign half off
mostly peeling plastic
reflecting against the canal.

Fish out a lion head
fur gone long skin slipping
off polyurethane foam.

Sometimes feeling guilty for missing
but not next morning
she explained how I was
before seeing water—–

Lightly gnawing my hand just as a human would I left
before they came for me they never did
think of licking blistered plywood just for the sound.


Worse than Familiar

I could kick this can down the road a little.

Yes, I realize now,
the swan was dead.

The idea of a principle: both elegant and vicious.

on your own recognizance?

A blackly ardour
you don’t find in everyone’s mouth.



She lost her stick in a scummy river.
I had a guy to say
Father gave her a case of light beer.
to be careful.

She approached the door and began to masturbate
remembering trying to remember
one blackened eye open halfway
dreaming of loose chip sealed roads
glass scraps
32” flat screen TV and rawhide in its infancy
lamp shade trimmed with dirty chrome
ravens hovering in the breeze of a woman
left at the bottom of a quiet pond.

But when you enter the back room to return
you tell him, I want to do small things
but I do not want to know why.


Smoke Detector

Like radios in places there are no

radios (are there still
radios?) I’m getting closer to finding

what animal

any given bone
belongs to.

Summer dogs, and summer limbs.

All the world’s
a clean white shirt.


Little to Do with Orchids

In the house

the house was finished.

Heard tires wearing on decomposed
granite miles away
a truck never arrives.

Her thumb-walking the road
countless rearview mirrors.



A small red dot: her distance
lights up smoke
screeching a particular song.

Couldn’t go in one direction
either up or down
the whole sky is very dirty.
No difference
the road is very dirty

Fireworks dark
finely toothed
through a barbed iron
little narrow bend of fence.

No difference
if the road is very dirty.



A room smelt of mildew, then him.
Of a blondish

persuasion—–no need
to persuade

for nobody’s trouble
or shoulders

are like anyone else’s shoulders,

though I do think of golden hills

or a fire on a list
of all fires,

and the angel of I can’t remember,
face down on the bed.