Two tough three-eared deer
on the climb up to Lake Alice:
they think my baby brother
is my man.
                 like a drone
                 over the canyon—
                 I can’t whistle
                 for the dog.
                 I can’t whistle.


                 after Czesław Miłosz

A day so happy: I was in the world.
You were there in the world—
there was no bombast. Whatever

was austere, I couldn’t recall.
I was my name. In my name
there was no world.

Recall me, my austere chair.
I know your name; I phone
your phone.


Mackerel sky
over our beach— to squint
is to be like all the others.

Electric blue. I expect two yolks
per egg forevermore, & I think
of your striding—

the leaves are profuse,
excessive. Who actually fucks
& who benefits? Psychic’s

awning: PAST,
PRESENT & FUTURE— I was wrong.
In the dream

you’d gotten out of prison.
We watched the launching
of a rocket.


it’s a welt itself my flag
          the tragic mouse under my heel
                     locked out on the roof it’s still
                                night’s gross bells night’s violet seal

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