PANTOUM FOR BRENT HENDRICKS
Everlasting noise in the fake lake’s gleam
& the wildflowers bob white at the byway edge
of what you thought you sought in the search
out in the after meadows of heaven dust
& the wildflowers bob white at the byway edge
to raise kin from ground to ask to here
out in the after meadows of heaven dust
& some motel beer might get you on the phone
to raise kin from ground to ask to here
as the dial tone’s got your riddle loud
& some motel beer might get you on the phone
so it’s cold in the heat & hot in the dead stove
as the dial tone’s got your riddle louder
of what you thought you sought in the search
so it’s cold in the heat & hot in the dead stove
everlasting noise in the fake lake’s gleam
POEM FOR OSIP MANDELSTAM
From Pindar to a softened
trunk in the beach grass
for beetles & wind.
I’m writing to this
levy of history. Green Apple
Books – a longing to lean all
the way back into the tick
hive & be mashed to grit.
How clean your line, how
old are you today? I want
to find a cigarette butt off the ground
to sit down & finish with you
in the café. How’ve you been?
I say. You’ve been alive a long time.
POEM FOR RONALDO V. WILSON
Slow line into the heart
wreck, Ronaldo, not a
fee to fuck, just a
quick one to watch.
What’s the ineradicable
mystery I’m after?
Something in the
voice of the longing
intent on bartering
itself through
the muscles of arrival.