if I want more than I’ve hands for & what’re hands but parts of cameras with no lenses that sit days on end then like a bomb on three toss light
from its home & I’d lose my weekend just skimming this puddle for shadows now I settle on a cause a cattail sticking up its neck through the tracks
says so much about the train says there’s no train that won’t stop if the bridge’s too strong it’ll break off & fray into tangents see them talk
funny over there they drop articles they lose more nouns to the river every year & what can a city sorry what kind of city releases its people
to the air if not with kite strings & sorry what kind of air is it dark marble that flutters under the hot bit of a power drill is it a shelf I can’t see to the ends of [End Page 94]
Ben Purkert’s poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, Spoon River, New Orleans Review, DIAGRAM, Barn Owl, epiphany and The Southampton Review. He currently teaches at NYU where he’s completing his MFA. He’s Poetry Co-Editor of Washington Square and writes book reviews for Harvard Review Online.