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Night Jar

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.

Published in Michael Teig Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.