I missed your last reading
in order to approximate

real time for the audience
. You

know, I needed to think
more about the you’s,

my you’s. Nothing lovelier

than paper, right? If only
I had had wheels, though

imagine a wary mountain

queer worrying in Princeton!
Going awry’s why I have

known division intimately.

Poetry separates further. Shall I
return to the valley of Canada

geese & black sheep, Ashbery?

I would have asked you if
you wore Gore-Tex and what

happens when one doesn’t

cross the aisle anymore? I
trust that I must entertain

the notion of forward.



The legends egressed, left us

unattended. How much of
the world doesn’t want me?

Who, without toying, will

hold my head in his lap?
This position of intimate

implications, but my mouth

doesn’t concern you. I’m not
a jack-in-the-box or a feather

in your cap. Somewhere

an assault is happening.
I am not unlike you, a holding

cell for ancestral passages

and glyphs. They’re sequestered
in marrow and in the mind.

I trust that mine wouldn’t

approve because I am also
in the lap of a meadow

with my mouth wide open.