Tokyo 13

It is smaller than a picture
It is a black bird. The star
In orange, characterized
By beaks and legs —
Kyurukuru — and warmth
To spare. Walks with a saw
In a bright place such as a lawn
Or field while he grasps
The efforts of mirrors and insects
In the evening from winter
To late summer he bears
A big group and gathers the spring —
Gyeen — one year of birds
The hole of a tree, like the sea
We make nests and breed a lot.

Debriefing (Purple Chrysanthemum in the Dark)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 980

purple chrysanthemums when he's locked in currency
Saddle River, 2019

purple chrysanthemums
when he’s locked
in currency

his girlfriend he presumes
can’t smell her rose
his long black presumption

in the dark
it’s nobody’s job
to shine boots

antoni sneaks off
stateless watches
arrange shirts the hour

he’s locked
each day precedes
verde lungs

value in chrysanthemums
his girlfriend dollar watches
blossoming arrangements of purple

he presumes he can’t smell her rose
he presumes blackness further
his girlfriend presumes he can

smell her boots
arrange her shirts
the hour sneaks off

locked in the dark
each day
lungs verde

it’s nobody’s job
to dirty dead boys
in the dark

Monteverde Vecchio (He Can’t Smell Her Roses)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 978

He Can't Smell Her Roses art poetry surrealism photography

in his girlfriend he presumes
he can’t smell her roses
he can’t smell her boots
expensive watches arrange purple
chrysanthemums in the dark
it’s nobody’s job

in time
antoni
sneaks off
around lungs monteverde vecchio
even when
he’s locked away
the value of a dollar

even when
he locked
away the dark
it’s nobody’s job

see his
girlfriend arranging purple
chrysanthemums

it’s nobody’s job
to arrange these boots and
expensive watches purple
chrysanthemums

the time
sneaks off
in his long black hair
he is dead

sergio buys handmade leaf smoke
voiding his boys

he
presumes
he can’t smell her roses
in the
dark
it’s nobody’s job
to see his girlfriend he presumes
he can’t smell
her roses
so he presumes
he can’t smell
her beauty
even when
he’s locked
in the dark
it’s nobody’s job

Darkens Grind Inquiry

Wikipedia Poem, No. 976

Washington, 2019

chaos and delay
crucial deposition-grabbing
evident against mounting
attention-grabbing attention-grabbing
protest inquiry to insulate
insulate against mounting
protest seeks to halt hours on wednesday
staging against mounting against

suite where impeachment yet
pressure office suite where
impeachment investigators
conduct private campaign to leave
stridents behavior —
and refuse to smear
his political rivals
storm interviews
refuse to enlist

committees on the committee
which is leading let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us
in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us
in! let us in! let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in! let
us
in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!

uh oh (kaboom)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 975

Hackensack, 2019
the gunpowder if it ever exists dries ready full-mouthed  and mush   his
mission soon ends with no criteria    sì, quella spiga—    what athletic  
power passed the hum of squirrely / selfish putsch  down—    if darkly uplift  
the self gets righteous    right to the bottom—    quick, much is transparent 
and not raised against  the real polemic fear yr  inbox   as good as yr last   
intesa inteso—    i feel hiss intestines / push out against—    the night 
sufficient    still    bent between hiss pinching stamen & inject the sniff pop of 
style kaboom

“Rosewater, Chicken Fat, and Pinecones”

Wikipedia Poem, No. 972

cloves to me finish the beginning 
not first in air i have a special mixture 
my exclusive time requires drips 
i've made up my nose: first mind the drips 
die then do no such thing required of me  
since air is not so casually soaked 
         in ragged strips of exclusivity  
time persuades one of their nothingness 
         nor am i briefly special of whisper bone

admixture of exclusive strips mine 
i require a sort of flayed time 
special time burrowed in special thought 
slowly and continuously introduced
die then no such thought will be 
thought in the air which afaik isn't true
i am all these pine-soar things 
         however briefly 
but what of rosewater soaked linen 
i've had such wonderful lovers 

in the beginning though not at first 
beginnings slowly and continuously rise
and pinecone through the lawn 
studded with drippings wrapped in earth
what a glorious exclusive time in strip
mines exclusive time dripping among air
however briefly but trimmed 
         into reddening strips

Source: Ruefle, Mary. “Resin.” Dunce, Wave Books, 2019, p. 15.

Parenting after a history of childhood maltreatment: A scoping review and map of evidence in the perinatal period

Il mio corpo sta facendo cose che non ho chiesto al
mio corpo di fare. I am a simple man — gosh —
and I have received the impression your poem isn’t
about the Terrible President. You’re trying to tell us
something sage we can’t hear simply. Stop with
the gosh. Pick up a beer bottle slake of gasoline.
There are many ways to say Mary. Here is my
password: Say rogue. Say scoundrel. I am dying.
Pethaíno. Douse. Sto morendo. Match. My body
does things I don’t ask it to do. My ears bleed pixels
of chlorine of ferric oxide of pine. The kitchen light
never comes on, Mary, you know what I mean? There
are the ants. They migrate from the dry sandy soil
into my possessed things. Things I kill for. Things
I inherit. La barca si schianta attraverso la diga.
Mio la barca si schianta contro una ventola. I
know what you’re thinking: You’re wrong and you’re
wonderful. North star of burning hotel. Star burning.

Isabel II in Exile

Wikipedia Poem, No. 967

understand ennobling forsaken;
struck down, despair; perplexed, in all.

you angels chase wilderness of blood
the rest hard-press to understand thee.

earnest of blood inters irrelevance.

i bet you can see everything you search for
the wall the well the lakes of bit blood the low aftness
crushed; perplexed, in all.

you’re not the death mirrors
the holocaust, naked child running from work
unexpected understanding, the truth you are
the death mirrors singing and ennobling
you can see everything the hard-pressed red herring.

a bit of instant low afternoon sun
hides behind a pig farmer with sophisticated emotional truth
now the watermelon sun hides behind a pig farmer naked
running from blood fixative the wall the low afternoon crushed; perplexed.

inaudacious despair; perplexed, is all.

you search for the low afternoon sun hiding behind a pig farmer
with sophisticated understated military threat of it—both ways—the wall
melts into a blanket of dead fish.

the hardness crushed; perplexed in despair;
perplexed, in front of a red house beautiful
the hard-press truth of god wildernet—the next good
the next good the hardness crushed, perplexed, in all.

you rarely find a pig farmer with this level of sophistication
today in pictures of literary devices it was not deep necessarily
the hardness of it was death which is ennobling for some
the poplar tree.

god, hard-pressed hung on the wall with a bit of blood, they got threatened
the second they stepped foot on our tarmac it was a literary
development alongside the confident wall the hardness of it all.

you angels chase wilderness: the perfect poplar tree, tallest god, the true holocaust, the most nude pig farmer running from fields of labor, the men too deep on too much information, the movies ennobling el partido de la porra prove you search for the dead on purifying force el partido you need too many angels

New Mexico State Gem

What is your name? Never know. Hunched, picked off
a pair’a you—neither crow nor winch. A thing
god backlit in neon after blessing us with neon. And I
know what it means as a poet to carry this heavy basket—faint
mason, invisible stevedore, passage of time, neither good nor right.

I am fearful for firm and misunderstood things—
the spume, smiling inside the gargoyle, cultural forb—
they’re no different as carrion ghouls. Time
has done miserable things with light—he waves no
staff nor hauls no sack of turquoise shards. Quick!

He’s about to make a break for it. He’s about to windlass
Into the clouds, that one’s fancy. The crocodile climbs
many painted ladders. No weighted, pretty purple halos
ringing the eyes of these wordy wraiths—embrace
not knowing your name. I struggle to pull down the old crucifix.

‘An acute and worsening crisis’

Wikipedia Poem, No. 961

Overcrowded, squalid conditions are more widespread at migrant centers along the southern border than initially revealed, the Department of Homeland Security’s independent watchdog said Tuesday. Its report describes standing-room-only cells, children without showers and hot meals, and detainees clamoring desperately for release.
A page from the Office of Inspector General report.

and even up to be released
notes to those outside

several immediate risks
patrol clothes to escape

religious gestures medicated
cells of force if necessary

and offered no response

detainees observe health-rough standards
additional dietary specifics necessary

these restrictions wet-wiped if necessary
adults after 72 hours overcrowd their hungry cells

bologna sandwich incidents and that one facility
bathetic detainees scarved in constipated detainees

and offered no response

clogging countless alien adults
of the observable time bomb

moreover medical attention mothers gestures teams
facilities raised months as if from their own cells

during only force if necessary
maintainees clothed by their cells

and offered no response

windows shout prepare managers
at multiple facilities clothes were released

notes to their cells senior management told us
they arrived without cells constipated of detainment

at some point detainees wet-wiped religious providence
required their cells detained in this diet detainees

observed detainees for a time
was prepared to escape

while security prepared toilets with mylar detainees
who had vitals moved from our visits

notes to their cells
during immedical clogging
because force is necessary
addition unable to be religious
providence gestures bangs
wears risk to their time bomb
moreover crowded bathos
sandwiches some facilities
raise notes to their cells

and offered no response

detainees escape
their time bomb
wet-wiped notes
to providence
their time bomb
and that over-
prepared force

offer no response

Source: United States. Dept. of Homeland Security. Office of The Inspector General. By Jennifer L. Costello. 2019. Archived by the New York Times. Web. 3 July 2019.