silently running himself inside an enigma

throwing the shade a sly aside analogue dreams

When asked this Spring morning
if the car would be safe,
the head porter of
the maternity hospital
closed his eyes and
said, ‘Nobody gets clamped
on my street.’

blue: you don’t have to say it
black: I know
blue: then don’t
black: [a word, crossed out so hard the paper is thin there]
blue: that one doesn’t count
black: it counts
blue: [a small boat, badly drawn]
black: what’s that
blue: us
black: we’re sinking
blue: it’s a napkin. everything sinks on a napkin
black:
blue:

found in a coat pocket in another year, after the coat was given away,
by someone who knew neither hand and kept it for the boat.

Saved message. 0:41. A Thursday. Number known.

Hi, it’s me. Nothing. I was just — the light was doing that thing
on the wall, you know the one, and I thought — anyway.
You’re probably. Anyway. It’s nothing. Call if you.
Or don’t, it’s fine. It’s really fine. Okay. Okay. Bye.
Oh, and the — no. Nothing. Bye.

To delete, press 7. To save, press 9.
9 has been pressed one hundred and twelve times.
The message will be kept for 30 days.
It has been kept for four years.
The light still does that thing on the wall.
There is no key for it.

[recording begins mid-sentence]

— …so I told him, you can’t just
— I know.
— you can’t just decide a person is
— I know, Ma.
— [inaudible] since your father
— Ma.
— [6 s]
— Are you eating.
— Yes.
— What.
— [inaudible]
— That’s not eating.
— [4 s]
— The tree in front is
— Which tree.
— The one. You know. It’s
— [inaudible: gone, or grown]
— [9 s]
— Okay.
— Okay.
— Call me when
— I will.

[recording ends]
Transcriber’s note: calls 1, 2 and 4 to 7 contain the same conversation.
Only the tree changes.

there’s but one bunny on my lawn
unless, there are multitudes
in the dense stand
of Caragana shrubs
and they take turns appearing

on occasion
there are two bunnies,
one chasing the other

Walt Whitman must certainly
have noticed such goings on
and been inspired to exclaim
“I contain multitudes”

I don’t think he meant
multitudes of bunnies
how could anyone contain
a multitude of bunnies
but a bunny might have been
one of his multitudes

as mine is one of mine
patiently waiting his or her
turn at the sweet grasses
or their time of
him chasing her
or is it her chasing him?

that night I dreamt
one of the bunnies became
the goddess of Wushan

clouds and rain
again and again,
and I, chasing, chasing

the priest moves his bowels with a traveler’s prayer

foxholes in the long driveway, I put myself through corn liquor and Faulkner for her

forced visit to dad’s side of the family,
huddled close to the mad uncle
and the scarlet sassafras leaves