In a light rain
flowers light the highway
where everyone’s motor
is already running.
The world is baroque:
my apartment is small.
America is monstrous.
The phone rings
in everyone’s pocket,
but I remove my feet.
I’m finished.
For a long time
a rat in the wall,
a dog in a panic,
an abandoned season
by the sink to which
the moon makes
an excessive offer.
Yesterday’s moth broke
down on the sill.
Yesterday’s headlines
flattened like veterans.
One dumpster, four pigeons.
All manner of men.
from There’s a Box in the Garage You Can Beat with a StickFind it in the library
Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2013
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.