POEM FOR JOHN BEER

Loose watchmen,

standing there under

rain like I

did him a solid beckoned

the farthing forth

& so got into the gully

to drain a soul of its

approximate liens.

An aside with

the judge & the judge’s so-

called clerk—so I got the

faked speed back into the

envelope

that being my

photograph on the

wall, you’re no doubt

well aware.

Let us now fix the apparent

region in our minds to

bomb it

for rhetorical purposes—

Trade us out of the viaducts with

what? Cigarettes? Check.

With booze & a pill

bottle of laxatives

labeled

Oxy? Check.

From the stars a

plough in the

bowery night

as when Eddie points out Auden’s

& I’m here: a pool hall tavern smoke,

a lover’s quarrel, the erstwhile Henriksens,

& big, lovely John

ablaze walks in for

some more.

 

Whosoever got to getting their

shadows to follow your shadows

around—

was it so as you describe?

POEM FOR ZULAUF & SCOTTY

It was Logan Square to Circle

& New Wave Afghanistan tracking

the money in the coffee shop

basement to Blackwater &

Company

incorporated—weapons

down from Phoenix or

blocks from the El trudging

with your how many

brothers from the cafe light

through snow to the

governor’s kiosk. I’ll see

you on Scotty’s roof in

view of what?

Some monument? Whatever

they’ll call the Sears Tower

next?

Or, how about Mt. St. Rainer

Maria?

POEM FOR COLE SWENSEN

 

That morning

Tyler & I stole a 

shower from the YMCA in Iowa City

& you pulled up with Anselm,

& Travels, wondering

where a few of the stragglers

bedded down at, the bus idling at 

that big river ravine, netting me

back to

a book of gardens & ghosts

& Wittgenstein riding the train in

Noon. What could I say? I’d gotten

pulled through the big caesura

calendar hours in Tucson that warped

a ditch into a portal.

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Background Image: Gretchen Frances Bennett, Frames, 2017