>’A Ocye Uby’ (A Terrible Poem for a Terrible Time)

>you want to focus all this
into one spot, all the light
cascades then pinpoint hot
through pressure and worries
about breath and good pulling
out good hair and good sitting
on your wooden chair, look
at nothing, hear nothing, eat
your ears and learn what heat
touches and where and where
you belong inside your where
and wear your wares so rare
(so rare so rare so rare so rare!)
around the neck under the hair
such long and losing hair there
under a starting stare, there.