i put a single stem
of beebalm – bright
red shaggy head – in
a green, wide-
bottomed wine
bottle & set
it outside to see if
the hummingbirds
would come
the first summer crickets
playing their rasps
pick right up where
they left off at
the intermission,
going on as if
this brief stage
a perfect god in high heels
slipping on the frosty street
our usual hands founder
lost at land
doubts made of jest
may be given over for a sacrifice
no surprise is new
on the tailor’s mother tongue
painting fruit
the howl of it
like a bet on joy
I go to fat
dine to lose me
and increase
the whole
I miss the ordnance in hope
turn as far as the peak
and so home to church
and a ham supper
invited to dinner by a fly
this time of day I sing
anything frivolous
to my gin
o my woolly eye
and woolly ear
if we were as wise as we are now
we might have become real
a while to wait
so I find love
see a fine woman and play
at being thoughtful
ready with a book
telling the beautifulest mouth
a pretty lie
with silver plates serving us sand
a gentleman tells me
the meaning of dog
walls secure the night
and call every fox
to take the air
if I dine alone
if I go to the grave with my hat on
if god is a paper bed
I rise in the morning
lock and own
to lack is a sin
a dull people are a content people
at all the papers
a half-hour war
from our want of discourse
ordinary as the afternoon
then home to supper