Closers Wanted

(Leave the Nine Behind Till Five Point Two)




her daughters silver and stupid

well-crafted like printer smells

whose white looks bluish by the book

looks around or clamps shut

her daughters blush red complexes in

relative calm-down his brother’s just tall

as pencil loads prepares for a fight remembering

the time that his brother’s red bed spat

or maybe his other brother is a smart clock

under orders from its stand-stills

her golden dog is a tank escort

mad as tweets

her golden binoculars see a cycle

make a sound out of being logged on

a green piece in the underwires the falls

whoosh! bristled with lush half drowned tails

all bicycle stealers fail

any older and the sharpened reed smarts less

but what if they’re stupid and rope-shaped

as a harley eraser?

understands naught but saddles

or maybe a clock is just a given

the round shadow of a sport

special shoes to iron stares

his brothers all have daughters beautiful small salves

they wear their wires before the treads

on tank day

if this grass is green the dead spokes are under it

nothing else calculates.