The Box
Aperture, aperture
like a cane to light
Steady it closer to the real I like:
Body of water
in the vein of an eddy
Whip the object into looking right
Grieving grieving day for night
The World
Scrape life off the world’s shoe
Drag life through the world’s streets
Run life on the world’s money
Feed life to the world’s dogs
Stick life with the world’s pin
Fold life like the world’s paper
Keep life from the world’s house
Throw life in the world’s rain
Story
He seemed to want to speak, so we bent down and opened his mouth. There was a distant rumble, it grew closer and closer, louder and quicker, until out came an egg, a speckled brown egg. Then a moment later, a turnip with its greens. A moment later, a steak landed with a thud. Then, a scoop of pickled cabbage. Then, a healthy pat of ghee. It was all cold, as though refrigerated, and stiff, as though dry, as if left out in the night. Some seconds passed, nothing else came, so we closed the mouth, steadied ourselves, turned and continued our march down the road.
The Hole
When we first found the hole
we could smell it
but standing there staring
the scent disappeared
The longer we looked
the more shallow the hole grew
bottom coming into view
We sunk with the perimeter
and the air came along
having fled but refreshed
now flew through observation
cubic liters culminating
stress-particles making hay
and smelling became a story
that made sense but lessened
its impact on the level
earth over time