Offal

Offal
full of buckshot.
Having gotten lost.

The awful wet
of west coast beaches.
The speech

is no longer
relevant.
The penitent man

never would revel in it.
(or he might
revel in it)

The cold
The smell of some
fresh-cut grasses

We know it
can't last past us.

Us

American Experience says
because of Bush
Clinton,
Bush.

Cyclone in Burma

The Myanmari government isn't
letting in aide
workers,
but aide.

Dead men can
not carry bags of rice,
bread.
Everyone's dead.

the Distant Flaps of Fireworks

The distant flaps of fire-
works. The trying not

to think. The jerks. The
claps of thunder down

the path. The taking of
a bath, in dark

Hoping—on a lark
The deepening air-mass aloft

pushing down
on shoulders, in tub.


Marking time, just
really phoning it in. The

eventual win: Not un-
expected. Not unwelcome.

The constant wind, the absent
eventual rain. The waiting there

the waiting there.
The waiting anywhere.

After Polar Low

All the wind, the downed whirlly-gigs,
the ginko sprigs in piles on the ground.

A pound of flesh. A freshness in con-
versational skill. An empty till

Beyond and empty till. The scouring
clean—by wind—the ancient ground

Whencefrom these virulent temperate
forests? The occidental naval chorus

rings in a tautly orchestrated song.
Who brought along, this palimpsest

philologist?

This climate's positively noxious. This
really knocks us. It effects us. Let them

have that little respite