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The glow
of b-
icycle
light, red
filament
ghost
Cycles
of reflectors
on street
corners, tri-
angle lamps
He says
“think
of entropy like a new car.”
Sound moves
through
cut-out squares
empty stripes.
A neon
HOT warms my side.
leans against
the balustrade
as if Breton
had a cell phone.
The man
You might
come
by, I look
for you
on the
street, no one is walking
like Charlie
Chaplin.
(small
squares w/ letters cut out
like building
blocks) painted gold
E A L Y K O L C
A window
from a year ago
the blossom
of headlights on wet
black
pavement
to feel
lonely.
but the
rain has stopped. still the
wind:
Lit taxis
prowl, aging lions
with chipped
teeth.
Four people
have stopped on the corner.
Light slides
against
the sides of cars
a man’s
hand on a stripper’s back
the touching
unconscious
eyeliner
lightbulb
weights
library
furniture
vaccine
courier
go to Seattle
tennyson
bank?
stockings
scrabble
hair art
post office
derrida
milk
cigarettes
poetry
cayenne
The year
fills my mouth like a bass drum
or
stainless
tines
or
dough
The snow. Pebbles, daubs
of fat,
melting everywhere
instantly. The splattered awnings.
At night windows repeat
us, see through
six books
of economics. colour: violet.
Movements
like the floor is made of tracks
a man on
a slaughterhouse
hook glides by, feet
dragging
behind
(most people
move their legs
for walking). Under streetlights
pavement
silk & iridescent
yellowpinkblue
half glowing
The stairs
climb
and climb
behind me, yellow frames
pleating,
glint of whorl-print rubber
Sometimes
someone falls
in love
with a woman from another
country
they speak
together
in a third
language
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