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September Miniatures with Blood and Mars
- Wayne State University Press
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38 september miniatures with blood and mars Even day breaks In the white bowl the grouse’s blood dries pink then vanishes in the warm suddenly pinkish rinsing water. Spiders had been sleeping in the logs I split, fell curled to the chopping block and tumbled drowsily into the grooves the maul had made, oblivious to mercy. Through a hole in the leaf, aphid-chewed, the size of a dilated pupil: Aggins Peak to which the first dusting clung waiting for its next incarnation. A niece told me she could hear fire “crinkling” under the earth. Who’s to say? Alone here I find myself listening, whispering when I speak at all. Having determined Pascal’s solution to all 39 problems (sit an hour with one’s thoughts) impossible I napped soundly in the hammock—a man is more than his mind, sang Blind Willie as did Dock Ellis tossing a no-hitter in 1970 while on LSD. Where did the day go? Now and then against the tin siding of this trailer parked among thistles, a last grasshopper: kicks; kicks; kicks. The boy asked—When we die, do our days start over—then drew seven separate pictures of ants, each numbered. Your ant companions. Come home soon. Scooby Doo Band-Aid stuck to the last page. After the storm the firmament bled and the blood was light What ferryman brought us here across this black nameless flow? Same one waits to float us back across, his cigarette tip winking in the dark. ...