Wednesday, February 9, 2011


“Please take the garbage out before I crack
You in the head,” she said, like a nun.

I’m always the one the foul falls upon (the one
To counter-attack is mostly a version of becoming

Re-undone, like a muffin too cooked to eat.)  Let’s
Frequent the Nowhere draining my eye.  Let’s destroy

The hill before it buries us beneath a violent peace;  
Before it turns amuse into annoy.  The problem rests

Between tone-deaf notes and the ones no one listens to. 
(She’s neutral about surrender—she harbors perhaps:

As if putting away the white flag to take up darning
Solved it all.  But I intend to bear-hug my refuse

During the fall—
even my woe’s in recycle-mode.)

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