CLOUDLAND, or SMOKE ALARM
I’m not quite sure which.
LONG BEFORE PA FORGOT REMEMBRANCE
HE MADE THE CHOICE TO LOOK AWAY
NOW HE WANDERS, SMOKE AND MIRRORS
ASKS MY MOTHER IF I AM RELATED TO HER
NOTICING THAT WE LOOK LIKE PEBBLES OR
SOME DAISIES IN THE GRASS
PERHAPS TWO PLASTIC BAGS
BLOWING IN ON THE BREEZE
ON HIS BIRTHDAY I TOOK A CAKE
TO THE CELL HE NOW INHABITS, MONASTICALLY TIDY
ONE SHOE, A TOOTHBRUSH AND A VIEW INTO TREES
A PHOTO OF MY BROTHER
THEY WOULDN’T LET ME BURN THE CANDLES
INSUFFICIENT CAKE TO FEED THE FIREMEN WHO WOULD COME
RUNNING, CALLED BY RINGING BELLS
NOW PREPARING FOR A JOURNEY TO
CLOUDY ISLANDS EAST OF HERE
I READ BY THE SMOKE OF RESIN
GATHERED ON A WESTERN COAST
CYPRESS FOG DRIFTS ACROSS THE PAGE
GOOD THING I GUTTED THE SMOKE ALARM
December 27, 2012
mutabilia 