from THE YEAR OF HORRIBLE FEATHERS
I ate a lyric.
The song tasted blue / bluebird / blue.
I swallowed a mirror. What I saw in the glass
cage / the opposition of glass.
Here, board the staircase at one end. A lot of this crinkles.
Often the way around a body of water is–the human
an approximation of percentage
of water. I’ll be
sad in my cells if I want to eat if I want to.
The lyric burbled inside me.
Reflections on glass / holes punched in flat aspect / random
Oh moment. Oh patch of light.
[ That lyric–trembling, emotional. ]
[ Like an argument. About our own temperature. ]
[ Or, the cadence of wheels–how they slip across the vale
of the mystery of the revolution of each spoke. ]
Even the milk takes on a bluish tint.
[ White / blue. ]
Or, to say, that was the beginning of last year–I dismantled
Which meant letting you leave through the stiles, the lintels,
the heavy oak of the door’s front end.
Love drives us all at unseen primal levels but gets
funnier each day. Baby,
time’s a disaster.
That is why I bought the eye cream.