an incandescent evening sky—
lapped waves of night that curl
down to the corner of a garden
unhinged instinctual flights
from gnat pits—riverbottoms
into depths of royal blue
nightmare of a deadly flaw
in pressure—blast-frozen red
splinters of the texas deck
last mortuary flowers—a child’s
only photograph the stale air
sickness drops to nightly prayers
stuffed cash-boxes coming open
cognac and cigars some heavy taxes
on the brain—dull conversations
genteel madness of the age—
decanting apish wit and wisdom
clean linens and burst veins
stars that burn down in the fist—
bullets in the holly bush—poison
waxy presence of red berries
reeled back from utter darkness—
figures as much written as erased
and penned into a children’s story
unerring American local sense
the world a sucking hog mire—still
lived as if it could be different