it
seeps active
lumbar fluids
into my days
colorless it
presents an
asymptomatic
condition

“You can’t undo my pain,” the lady would say,
“but let me undo your pin.”
And then her hair would explode like a supernova.

He loved football, and the Bills
were his favorite team,
another way of saying
he was angry most of his life

You speak for all of us,
the sad little birds
in brief triumph
over gravity
discovering the bright desolation
we so dislike
and love
in one another

I don’t remember exactly how long he waited
but after we moved to Michigan he followed
and almost everyday he watched me cut, plane, sand,
nail, stain, and finish every single piece, in his wool suits,
until I had an urn.

The boy tries to draw his mother now –
busying the drones in her checkered gardening apparels.
He desires to draw it in toto, all –
the nectar, aromas, manures, sweating, in the milieus
his father screaming, “Fuck you!”

Dignity, Beauty and Hope sang.
But when I woke they shattered
Like crystal mosaics of church saints.

Soon, like a trumpet, the sun
Began the chorus of sparrows
And the shouts of flowers.

My plan is to enchant the moon with a fabulous

array of art. I can’t imagine viewing a masterpiece

without feeling a singular buzz. That’s my edge.

The taste of depression wakes up my tongue.
I wipe the corners of my mouth, sniff
my hand, the rancid, toothsome, brine hints
from my skin.

Today’s totals were eleven for the left arm
and nine for the right, though one of those donors
choosing the right arm found out that they
were not successful in drawing any of his blood
from that arm