Saint Soscettalo

How he corresponds with the dark palette of injured creatures,
Millet and spelt signatures leaking from sleeves,
Abandoned to corroboration,
Slave to stringency,
Cantos laid down to each canonical stitch.

for carolyn who is really not

the way you feel offsides, in the trunk, thinking of lemon children
safe in folly, grinding out jest
for the 44 jetplanes, their engines easily malaised,

it catches a corner with forehead, a gash and bruise and mumbled curse,
“oh, curvature! oh, flatness!”

your reflection rounds the corner, peers over coffee tables and miniature bulls,
sees surgical wrap at the corridor’s end.

but how can you stop such small beasts from charging?
isn’t it that you send out some very small signal?

Civil Twilight

Proprietary Fins

Canopy a Trifle Mislayered [sic]

I’m bobbing up and down for you
In the ocean!
Seven times they’ve sent me under, and as many I’ve risen.
The channels of the water are great;
There are so many, all very different.
The channels of the water look great underwater.
I’m looking for this necklace you would love.
Seashells and coral.
Your neck isn’t built for coral
These days?

The big fish don’t sink down any more than tiny
Inchoate murderers!

The place where two waters meet?
Perhaps you’ve heard that one.
It was a trifle careless of me to build
On that chestnut,
Secured only by pity,

Odynophagia that I am;
A large tooth and its comrades
Behind it
Take turns in the most
Enlightened way.

Epigram from Another Place

It’s an open secret, don’t you think,
that all brave pilots bravely drink?