Summer Rain

It's all butter and butter theft, thunder and the sloppy nature  of goodwill. It's all distress and excess, having it outover home. The train station, the new cathedral.  The cathedral, the theater of murder, American on Americandifferences and distances, when some liquid machine starts  to slant the world, sets shadow in motion, a skyblue tarp the new heaven, rain on skin the new numen,  pepper spray at the borders the new sentiment,the new outcast fate. Two shoes ruined, chewed by shepherds  of the devil, the vamp and tongue demolished likewhat Nina Simone did to a song, cleaving it  to/from home. How long before the outsoleis ripped from the pink insole and the shank  a leathery flag of your surrenderto all the parts of speech that fail  to represent objects, subjects, states or qualities?Air swarms to a certain density that appears   as One you hurried to when you were trouble,Dickinson said her mother wasn't.  And of her father: the oldest and oddest sortof foreigne. A sweater and water, the new  father and mother, Republican and ghost, a far-fetchedthing replaced with law or storm or idle kindness from afar.