LITMIR.BIZ

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      sounds more sinister than “the world”

      stuttering is kisscousin to an incantation

      one we shouted when we came to

      the creek and found it full of math

      but not so good for drinking

      esteemed accomplice

      much-lacked be-

      loved dearest

      choice I didn’t know I made

      favorite first and finally most

      vulnerable spot

      the trees release their latent fire at us

      in photos of lightning

      see

      it eats upward

      up

Pedagogy and Performance

      Whatever the lesson was, it wasn’t

      taking. We awaited the information

      in kind of a corporate way

      and I kept wanting to go up

      to the whiteboard and write

      FEMININE MARVELOUS AND TOUGH

      and ask, Is that what you’re trying

      to do.

      Sometimes it’s hard to figure

      out how to move. When cardinals

      move, they’re as imposing as cows.

      They pull pornography

      from abstraction.

      But let’s also look

      at us a few weeks ago: a scale

      model of Seattle with its gleaming

      library protruding like a jewel

      from a navel—

      this was our best

      self, not the contraption of drawers

      and cranks that made our work;

      not the surprisingly delicate bones

      of Boba Fett, painted the same

      colors as his armor; not the three

      towheaded delinquents who

      used the contraption in their

      performance, then went home

      after disparaging the audience

      and showered together; not the cast

      of my life filing into a wooden

      amphitheater as my favorite band

      started soundcheck in another

      country.

      How would I get there

      on time, even with half my friends

      rooting for me, how do I get anything

      done when as late as last night

      someone started yelling CARDINAL

      at the sight of blood soaking my sleeve.

In the Corner of a Room Where You Would Never Look

      Warhol was right, he said athletes are fat

      in the right places

      and they’re young

      in the right places. Apparently

      the next Godzilla movie has Godzilla

      just running around eating everyone’s

      money and it’s the scariest thing ever.

      We can rub bug powder on the national

      anthem and run that over the closing credits

      as long as the singer manages to sing

      I’m in love with everyone but you, almost

      convincingly. A production team undoing

      one another’s pants

      is How We Get Naked Now but tomorrow

      morning all the cut-off parts of us are coming

      back so get ready. Europe: you swear it exists

      because you once had sex in it, and ideas.

      Prepositions: that’s where we all get sucked

      under. Prepositions: the San Andreas

      fault of meaning. Prepositions:

      what came dislodged when our parents

      hired operatives to kidnap us from cults

      and deprogram us in the backs of vans.

      Warhol was talking about the ass,

      right, which we have come to understand

      is the vessel of histories. That effect.

      We put everything through

      a translation engine

      because we wanted to see the world.

Terminal

      —tonight no one should be caught

      fondling on stoops

      when they can climb up on

      the fire escapes and screw—

      —what is all this fog

      in the unedited air—

      —I can’t bite through

      it to you—

      —prudence is

      a no-headed fish

      in a three-headed town—

      —sickness draws a salary / a boarding pass

      on human paper—

      —duress / duress / duress—

      —horrors tucked into corners

      of countries

      I can’t give directions to—

      —the night my friend stopped cracking

      jokes / we understood he would die—

      —I had a vision of him being better than new

      and then he was gone—

      —decades hence I kick

      an inflatable globe

      to him across the sidewalk—

      —come up for some light

      my hidden baby pigeon—

      —cajole / cajole / kaboom—

Factory

      He can say it was a painting

      He can say we were the painting

      Or that the painting wasn’t painting

      And we only happen to ourselves

      We can say we kept things running

      by creating distractions

      from

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