Brandon Downing, p.2


“From edifice like sprigs of water and carbon purses
From the land’s end an eleven is coming his hair broken
From the cut-leaf like a columnal birth some camouflage
From the cylinder yard carburetors rapes libraries
From the tool-sheds his metallic shine near darkness haste
From the pacifier marshes his mounting heart is coming
From the wood and blood to its weathervane bridge

The bridge begins with a fighting book on portion hill
The narrow escape of greed and love from beach fingers
The song of the tunnel reaching his temperature schoolyard
The diagonal ironworks making terrifying island shapes
The jacket that turns paper one Thursday miles of face
The white plants of angel bedcovers crucifixion’s Florida
The theme field arriving at his mounting heart”