The diversions and pastimes  we found

could be splashes of colors like a torch of

jewels buried in the loamy field, flecks dried and drifting through the fog sparkle fiercely twinkle with a furious and unsettling beauty.

Part II

The landlord removed our chimes from the antique door bell.

I used to look at the empty house next door, but the city tore it down.

I buried the wrong cat in its rubble.

The extra plates and linens,

Our photo albums, everything in shrouds

Cobwebbed in silence.

(How could they know)

Okies blow across the last decade

In kind and in spade,

My neighborhood made.

The shadows on unused plates never grow darker

Nor lighter.

The linens crumbling next to an old air mattress are

Joss paper.

Because our  odious catfart legacy beguiles and sways, buffers and decays our minds, we adjust.

I get my news from the letters spilled from the soup on the table.

Exactly not here, these words cheered.

Eels slithering back into the sea

from an ice locked carcass

of a zebra, they have more

social interaction than I do.

I bump into more people than neutrinos, especially never.

And I squeezed and clawed my way into this unusable necessity, pure flow

On a river pouring into the sky, Diasporas, Estrellas, vines creeping into the fog of a new dawn, sadness as boat,

  1. You row sorrow below you churning darkly, gripping the oars and they divide the ways, hidden sleight of fate give way, displacing the body into forms, eras, tongues and states, rising and falling

Channels roiling in whirlpools from your dripping paddles

Molasses on a chandelier drops and sizzles making caramel crisp carapaces on blowers with hangovers awake with bloody eyes,  and I see my seventy-one jobs undone

Like evanescence upon a deeper clock with completely different hours

Like a 2 x 4 or a book, one dumb, one verbose: from trees and tannins, of amber and canons,

I don’t know anymore,

Yet anymore remains the more,

Like piles of edible California Rolls.

………………………………………………………

I remember poetry, the lights, the cheeses, good times, yes, but was I happy?

Was I going back to the kale-eating lizard people of Gondar empty-handed?

No to both, and there would be a heavy price, in fact, it was

About the cost of eight edible California Rolls.