Laundry
One day
we stop using our dryer.
I don’t know why,
my parents don’t explain.
Better not to ask.
I stand on toes,
fingers strain
to reach dry clothes
in our
Poetry
Rose 62
he
is
loose
the
stain
of
the
principle
he
color
of
rose
of
the
rising
circle
little
based
directly
on
the
cathedral
very
lavender
by
the
average
correlation
of
the
auburn
of
the
Art of Retail
If retail is an art, then wholesale is a slaughter–
the shopkeeper an artist, the wholesaler a soldier.
The customer is a gallery, with hooks and white walls.
The bulk-buyers wield kalashnikovs.
One
The Poem of Questions
(Following Neruda)
Is there anything more naked
Than a book’s cover?
Did we discover the cinema
In sleep’s auditorium?
If the first god was an animal
Will the last be a
*Behold the right-wing vanguardia, you say*
We arrive it’s Thursday the industry beckoned
to look at ripped canvases arranged amidst
old masters, to cavort amidst nudes white marble
statues Goya prints, to examine strips of color
dark + light