Poems

What little resemblance this would have to Amy's wedding,

for Amy Dennis and Andy Cook,

            I've lost my way on
            more than one occasion.
                        Keith Waldrop, Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy

 

1.

A sublime, frame. Premeditates. Sibilance, and. Displaced into entirely.

Meditations, into fact. From a bone-dry tree. Haphazard, through the earth. Overwhelmed, a
doubtless pleasure. Plant-wrapped chairs, bouquets of pavement, walk. Hope springs eternal, Welsh.
Thin, barracuda rage.

Applause of light. Atlantic, wanders. Coastlines, wither. A window, thinking about itself. Does
anyone. To bed, with a ring. Step backwards, dance. Reflexive, of. This. A certain golden band. The
blondest wish. She eyes, we carpool. Squandered water, a square. Perfectly, different. Escape, of true
complexity.

Torn apart, by crinoline. Fisherman's light, the family. Enjoy, variety. Confetti, tinkers. Children,
beckon. A simple thing, distorted. Conversations blossom. Show of hands.

We don't know how an apartment works. The food was glorious, again.

 

2.

What darting glance, a crease. Complies, a flower. From the yard. I wish for people, standing.
Redwood. Slipped, into the burly ground. The English countryside, a patch of planets. Formidable, a
myth. Walls, were closing. The end of the movie.

Burlington. Old music, longing marvels. A silver pin, a bridge. Sublime.

I open heartbeat, read. Domestic space of writing, hearth. A blood-stone. Salt-thick, an orange
sweater. Method, burning. Blowing smoke. Undid, tanned hands. A context, isolated. Expert means.
Outside, a single, bubbled froth. Champagne, these incandescent bursts. She turns, an atmosphere
of pearl.

The wedding afternoon, so slowly. Delicate, to balance. A tonal, underlined. We drive, between.

Heaven's, bronze. Fool's quarters. The shape of, basins. Cadence, trains of thought. They coast, a
cool spray. To even me, who'd seen.

Topology, a wonder. Tune slowly to taste.

 

 

Songs for little sleep,

for Christine McNair

            silhouette of the carnival wheel
            before an eclipse
                        Jake Kennedy, Apollinaire's Speech to the War Medic

 

1.

The monotony, of beauty, rest. I slipped into, you pour. A given trance.

Someone said I should. Pave, a sequence. Witness a narrator, polite and silent. Bliss. A version, extra
days. In threes. A glance. My arrogance, those high-priced shoes.

Such little relation.

Propriety, adored. This, puritan thought. Once again, a poem, sourced. Burned up, raw. Wheeze of
plastic fan, electric. What would suppose you, perfect. Phantom of the telephone. Engine roar of air,
conditioned. Never rings.

 

2.

Our smarter causes, made. Green meadow, frame. This vein of pythons.

Swift, and overlapping surface. A wish for lungs, locked in a cage. Each thing, according to. A
sleepy, dismal, routine. Reprimand, dimension. Gathered, nightmare. Its nature.

The stuff that weaves, are gathered. Sleep, a dream. No such beast, a neutral lyric. Winsome, loose.
The lonely hunter. Bottomed out, a dark source. Ruins, wake. Self-sacrifice, and visible. Stringent.

Lone, wooden dumb-bell. Wilderness, skirts some.

 

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