Sunday, June 30, 2013

Andrew K. Peterson

for Kevin Kilroy

just so long as there are some that joyously scatter itself
are you stronger than zinc, lighter
the teapot swallowing steam buds
prodigies and ‘Mercy, Mercy, Mercy’
on museum steps, waiting for a course  
of action in smocks of cellophane
we can meet there, dial up digressions
as bumper a mating season,
winter moths abut the carbon lake
with witty and urbane kickstops,
sweet some things they can’t say on the Wide World of
sorts we’re out of when visiting a ruin
sit there spaced out uninformed in
uniforms     don’t know all I want to know
is that it happened, none of it a cause
is a part, am biological, nor discordant
warm Novembers in backseat blue smoke
could that be who, unknown, thought at
as a thin set of coulds cloud ferries
east or out to birdland for the weekend or
up street to add some fixes to the contra nozzle  
a bow is never over being done,
no different from houses’ horizonless commence


The Great Navy from the State of Vermont

Rapture’s deep closed gold
Smell of a kiss lean-to a tactile preferring Billie
Holliday Sundays, the opening umbrella bird
Monster was more joke than sympathy flower
A 32 oz. black crest with retractable wattle –
A pure King Leo scrimping on the bubble
I need a balm, a skull cap
Flowers beside the pool
A quarter shade lighter
The Great Navy from the State of Vermont
Spirit burned up on reentry
Unintended charges
Spaced across interchanging stints
What a lovely husk
What vile jolt as it happens again
For this is the hour of visitors
Peel back the difference and dare the moon to blink
A beacon to that great coffin of eyes
Banking back to forestry mathematics
Where I’m a moat torn easier from continual diversions
A blind almond remainder in the heat of your hand
A voice that says both
“we are starved” and “we are not geometry”


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