Saturday, August 22, 2009

Coming on in Grim Fashion

An eager rooster takes a wrong
turn at the corner of river and trees,
misses the mountains entirely,
races beyond the limestone pillars
that archaeologists had drooled over.
The morning mysteries give me
enough nausea to last until lunch.
Hens spend the afternoon laying
eggs in hammocks before they
succumb to a barking Walt Whitman
on his way to the refrigerator.
Construction on the apocalypse gets
hung up at the city council meeting.
A shaky rooster is ferried across a parched
reservoir disguised as a grim Allen Ginsberg.

Remembering to Forget

A black cat warms to the cushion on
the kitchen floor as obedient eggs
scramble up in a skillet from the import store.
My concentration is broken by a front
door bell that has put its teeth into the bright
temperature of my early morning examination.
The day seems to be divided between piles of
impertinent socks and insistent shoes that
attempt to measure imperfect space.
The potted plants go bone dry before I can
flood them with a watering can full of mathematics.
A black cat stalks field mice in the tall grass of
the bedroom where babies used to gurgle up amnesia.