over an air show is the realest sound I know

 

 

I thought the sky un-zipped or clouds

ripped or did something symbiotic—

squinting it sounds

so much like perforating tin: can you send money?

oh, just an ambulance going by.  I’m between

a hospital and a lake,

remembering

there’s this old-peoples’

home where walking by you can watch them eat dinner

and on all the tables are numbers and the building has security guards.

you said that the last time we talked.

I slow-cooked the loin you wrote down

my hip smelling rain like yours.

halved

 

 

dead beat

my sisters’

father

kentuckian

twangs

I get

to call

him pop

 

(ask his

first wife

about

powdered

milk)

 

over two

state lines

stands

the bad

mouthing

postmark

 

jail was

the ultimate

back then

and I’m

good

for traffic

 

meaning

I’m in

the system

my brother

and I

our sisters

systems

spat the groin

of pop

 

I should

apologize

for walking

around

with a

mustache

with ass

on my

mustache

crumbs

bread

beard

yeast

disease

all

promote

a great

nebular

birth

 

look

into it

 

it’s weird

knowing

blood

walking

around

as a nurse

or catalogue

model

 

phone

numbers

on the

internet

 

I find

two phone

numbers

and mean-

while make

coffee

 

hay fever

the straw

hair of one

 

the other

I hear

of a girl

 

picture

dixie cups

cereal

clothes pins

for fun

my brother

can’t yet

speak

the dog

is new

 

pop’s not home

from work

 

the

paperwork’s

to be typed

into these

here

boxes

 

nurse

 

his handcuffs

hurt him

 

I am afforded

I have

a brother

 

soon

we have

an answering

machine

an agent

to call-in

questions

 

a new

address

 

not one

of us found

hunched

 

 

I recall douchinginstructions hung from my

aunt’s showerheada proper self-examination of

the breasts      diagram     being shot up with water

each finger as if put in me

desires omission to do so     I react as well     or at

least where I can’t get from operating

tubs should really be bigger     be made to

upside down      knee pins     reflexthe doctor’s

deserving whatever my name isnot myself

pharaoh-armed calm at my side     hands in my lap

stillsubjects: stonesstubbed bone spokes

foilingflatmy anus’s glint singingslow

mowed tin tips hang like garlic from a lintel

I licked a cancer

patientsheadandlethim spitinmymouth

something about surgerydog-tags for me to gag

on   the other day     I liked being younger