Apartment Poetry Quarterly

11A              11B              11C              11D              11E              11F


10D Cary Stough













Bubba Helms gathers. relocates. considers we
are working the line. he becomes my brother,
takes classes online. secures networks. I have
tried earnestly to express again the Field
Sparrow, perched, exposed on the bare branch
of the Plane accelerating song
















if he becomes distant
becomes available
if he becomes the sheriff, the dream he becomes
unnerved, the faster he becomes, more aggressive
at times. if he becomes like the part then he becomes
more virtuous, a free agent, an unwilling getaway, more resistant to
drought or to cold. if becomes dry, discard promptly becomes
a lover, cooperative, too familiar. how lucrative, thy branches become
property of the city, of sponsor, the bankruptcy estate. through accumulation he
becomes site specific, individualistic in character with unpredictable growth patterns
embodying and responding to a particular when he breaks off a twig with a certain number
of leaves upon it

when he becomes mine
when he becomes more difficult to suffer
when he becomes chronic
when he becomes monumental inaction
when he relocates to florida
when he gathers the standing grain, or as when one gleans the ears
when he considers all their works
when he poses in victory
when he memorializes scores and
values the live oak










when the helmet flies, the head
drags along the field, and affects
how the brain regulates anger

mostly,  I am too tired to complete this—
the politics of slow violence sitting on the

poetry is sometimes a no    more often
to stay home and cook is a no














The laptop freezes, is a no
Exhaustion is a no
Leaving the staff party is a no
Flipping the car is a no
Kneeling, still a no on the field
Kaepernick, still not on the field
Watering the Oxalis can be a no
Still struggling in my field, the fist
suspended is a no, indefinitely
Tilling with bubba is a no
Walking away from the screen, momentarily a no
Taking only what you need for chowder is a no
Blocking the shot, not in my house
Personal days are a no
and also the long accelerating series
of short whistles that build to a rapid trill
when we move across the freeway, link
up, we gather in a no









Hurled into perfectly mirrored vistas

the sparrow can’t understand glass

Saw nothing very clearly but the

exhausted flickering of channel letters

their bodies deposited into trash

cans at US Bank stadium. Softly

insurgents. Fantasy is instant

replay— she ducked and it missed her

and shattered against the mirror. Our

Champions are leaking. Imagine them

embracing, floating