Relive How It Wasn't

he sits perfectly still, statesmanlike.
fires his longtime secretary.
releases a single fly in the dormitory.
it’s an experiment.

is there spirit conductivity in granitic
foundations? what’s the one
about the seventh fold of the sun?
every car window is a lens.

there is no dare left in this dare.
wellington ate the constitution rare.
mildred pierces her low-key thigh,
cutting as a currency.

I crave a smart aleck with perfect kelvin.
ants are my superiors in lakes. I buy bulk
candles, drip hands solid in wax to find
my way home by fingerprints.

the roadhouse contains a chair, each chair
a lady, each lady her own cue, and a puppy
on the table makes it a game.
the stripes are loaded.

microscopic graphs in a rich field, a wavetable
on which to feed the wounded German
we’ve learned as a snotty word, to demonstrate
the separations in our conscious hue.

he sits perfectly still, modifies one feature
with a small inserted cone.
dreams of ronette pulaski, covets her hair.
it’s an expedient.

there has been a spate of paranormal
activity, a nemesis in the baseboards. is
home, the sunroom, around the next corridor?
is that sound something by zorn?

all of the motorists preferred illiteracy
and a sweater of deceased pets.
there are no ditches in denmark,
do you think it a coincidence?

you need an angelfish, binomial:
embraceable ghost. aquatic johnson.
cows are your minions in soup.
there is a pea always beneath you, asleep.

the larynx contains a whoop, each whoop
a juvenile outburst, each collegian a pen
with which to invent pennsylvania.
for this you call me a provocateur.

intangible graphs hitherto unseen by human
(the alamo, no rich church) archetype, we elected
to become abstinent because of the rent.
culled a lumpish texture from the paint.

he sits perfectly still, classically sordid.
his squeamish, unaffectionate son,
now the apostolic warden, calls him fusty.
he’s an exponent.

signs of the polloi, metered in hotels
with their hoi out, stormbound.
are you near enough to clean silverware?
can you put us in touch with dean?

the windshields have forgotten the wind,
contain only iconic information.
in denmark with no place to fall
remaining in motion is considered dutiful.

juarez was named twice, twice opened
an artery to the other side. one voted here.
the other had important business to eat.
the presbytery sink clogged at the mouth.

each address contains an address, each
koran contains enough gas, each peel
solicits an orange the width of a milking breast.
for this you call me and laugh, pitilessly.

the tangible single strand of identity, boogie
woogie (a nebulous sub-genre) the jobholder
enjoys on weekends, sex and deniability.
the rape scene is too esoteric to reprint.

he sits perfectly still, greenish, wooden,
thinks of the hills of spain, a woman,
an alpenstock in his pants,
its missed experience.

in the darkened parlor, a phenomenon:
the whir of a rolls royce, tuning in a band shell.
cut any one of us as proof, the gun on the table;
avenge your eldest son.

any auto trip that comes to a completion
is cause for optimism, the eyes end at the dash.
the danish word for savior is ditch.
they suffer no moment but this.

there are two forms of alabaster, one
can be had at a price, the other a shell, fragile.
we are hungry, can anyone hear us?
do these mouths work on sunday?

each infertile womb bears, each contains
a clash of conscience, a fixed set,
binoculars in the womb, he sits perfectly still.
for this you call me whore, an expense.