DETRIOT

the wild dogs went roving
through the late decades
of the twentieth century

clomping their jaws
here and there
excavating the hulls
of burnt out riot houses

the dogs
with their wireskin thighs
and long cheeks, doomed
prevented kids from attending school

spat more than you spat
groomed the steel wool which bloomed them
breeding

the last bus left town at 6:15pm
everybody was on it,
kids climbed on the back bumper
tossing steaks
into the fog of exhaust
blending dogs and headlights

the adults
were hypnotized by the ticket
in their hand
, how the driver
was not mean

SMARTPHONES

here's an idea
the city

how it is all stacked up
like a pancake pile
beginning in the basement
which is a poetic device
meaning the subway

and rising to the skyscrapers
can you see how this is literary?

but no - City of Layers
(as it should be called, i think)
will never be written

because now Vanessa

has me thinking about people instead

and the way you sometimes catch them

sincerely smiling at their smartphones

SAINTS

the great blood of saints

and stakes on which

they peppered

and brought to boil

entranced

dehydrated and pale

dehydrated like cured meat
whose hide became a drum
and like a drum

they have no memories

picking rocks out of their mouths

salting sidewalks

handing you the gum they chewed

all the saints revolting
like the cupping of your hand

it's the holy shape, the rhombus

erratic and dizzy
real prayer

INDIANA

midwestern morning skies i've seen

the sun stretch thru the clouds

to pierce the earth from space

it is nothing like distressed leather

shhh

the AM radio, the interstate

forgiveness, resilience

Rod Sterwart and The Small Faces

proclaim It's All Too Beautiful

to the beat of glass shattering

in a city, probably

midwestern morning skies i've seen

the sun stretch thru the clouds

to pop the dreams that sleep us

they are not selling m&ms, peanut

PUBLIC INQUIRY

aviator sunglasses
over baseball cap

it's not an interesting thing
to tell the world
you wish to control it

get out as many questions
as you can before they answer

it would be more interesting
to see you bite your fingernails
on a fire escape in the snow

SUNDAY PROMENADE

it's that song again

about tattoos and drinking

on the roof

you don't even shop

at duane reade

you step back into myrtle

where the empanada ladies

sell cold orange soda

and the dogs all get

vaccines for free

the slices at san remo are

beginning to congeal

you step into myrtle knowing

the first three counting

crows albums are important

and the sidewalk

is like a jasper johns

and you treat it like sweatpants

and leather jackets

which hold hands and playfully

tell each other to shut

the fuck up

FIRE

when man learned to control fire- to create and eliminate it- his brains began to expand and make him thoughtful. instead of going to bed because the world was dark and cold, they could stay up a little bit later and look at each other with bags under their eyes and animate their dreams with their mouths and hands.

THE SALESMAN

this stillness
punches
in the blood
we fail to bury
what is still
this stillness

the silverware is oily
hair is oily
music becomes oily
when it leaves the speakers
the stillness
weighs down the drums

beneath the quiver
of a doorbell
that is a kitchen knife
rising over a block of
cheese

so well dressed
no hot water
no heat
no hot water
for almost two weeks

the pads
of the cat's paws
tap away from you
towards the door

the doorbell again
you look at your phone
you shiver
to your blankets