improv for bernie, 111820121309 [draft1]

The thing is wide & white
But bearing a ring of amber
Which carries across memory
_like a whisper-washed hair or
Blade, but I think back on her question
And yes, I am killing myself adoringly
Melting my body to the mat

For this knuckle of pint. When I think

Of her the follies rise,
Precepts enjamb in pain, a sweet round
Aftertaste stalking the long dark nap.
Don’t change a word. You
Are wise & wind torn & yr ears are tuned
_to just
Frequencies — the grass whimpers above each follicle
Lip quivering by truth-run conceit. We have
Suffered, but in my ocean, beside your ocean, …

I think: “Bare it,” I say.

One Long Fucking Question for Michael Robbins

What I’ve learned about long walks of course
Was taught by the whiskers of a reservation man
Lashing a horse
Sterile tracts of pale kentucky blue grey shale

Don’t take them
Or take them seldom by mail
Stretching out like a dying dog
The pickets and Queen Anne

For a loss
They can’t
Be beat

The beat
Across the lawn
The lawn along the limb
Where does nightfall end
And daybreak crown its gin?

you have to explain

something about sliding the thin cardboard lid off
remember very specifically there must be a comma
between thin, cardboard … my body’s heat printed onto
into the otherwise cold floor, the shoebox shaped like a shadow
but somehow subtly connected to the idea of a shadow
the shadow representing something hidden-aggressive
the next line emerges, rhymes mask with dagger
suggests things are not what they seem for reason
white door, gilded knob creaks opens stage right,
i don’t notice — too involved, self-involved — i must have noticed
eyes close, nose inhales deeply, points of the lips twist up
the excitement of being caught, the rush of causation

you have to explain what you find
you have to explain what you find
you have to explain what you find
you have to explain what you find