from “Landing August”

I split into traffic like plastic into ocean. It was a coaltrain taking the same pedestrian crossing minutes,—aren’t feet a wheeling nuisance? The cars 147 × 120 cm & the rest looking East refuse to run at the same angle as overhead wires; all air had to do was stay still to kick up ash & raise bone questions. Such as, esp. when singing lively the near identity of “was born” / “was spawned”.       He that creeps out under eaves on rail legs probably knows the time each day to do so—a traffic accident, or just a face so distant he has no eyes. Blind, the ploughed lines of his cropped flowergardens are so deep they acquire the windtunnel effects of highrise canyons.           She that holds the paper cup so powerfully her fingers phase through & on contact with fuel like a neutron trigger produce a fusion reaction with exactly the area of effect she requires. She’s there, & that’s about all there is.     Prettiest socialite lady guy. Kids play with Janus faces at corners, at once buying single cigarettes from passers-by with loose dollars & hawking tours to near-off mines + ruins. Leftover tank factories + uranium refineries opaque as labelled nameless towers of litigation / prophecy. . . .tethered gargoyles doling out Cheshire cat guidance & the next time     I come this way all the bodies have changed places.

The scattered, wet to the land. From a not-quite-1^st-story-not-quite-ground-level 148 × 120 cm lone island window spliced into air with steps, two ornate dogs fix out. Insect blinking. If the soft machines could laugh it would be with love ambivalent about direction. It would turn the world blowout the window (166 × 135 cm bulldozed farmland) & someone is keeping 2 fullgrown pigs within the town’s limits. They watch the sky burn down with such humanity the silence grew & silently we grew uncomfortable with that. GET EVERYTHING OUT—thrown in fitting passion from 3^rd-story metropolis into sty dirt. Pigs with gold on their faces stare Sun down, as if knowing that broken time is true time : first order differences; second order of the same—first time warm face; second comic tragedy. When all that is solid melts into air then calcifies into one kind of rigid or another . . . Aware wilderness smiling patient,—rolling in the       political way time passes.