Drew Gardner, p.2


There’s a movement of plants
toward the window, which is
so intelligent, it is almost impossible to notice
and I consider my bicycle to be alive!

the wealthy strangers unload boxes in the public health clinic square
into a diary entry uncollapsed but looking down
pensively through created darkness as the surface of the soul
the firemen trying to get someone to buzz open the front door—

to lose everything as a sudden rush
no idea or directive erupts from
the sudden lift felt and it is there, clearly iron
to climb the latticework lifted her from the shards of glass in the sink
when the streams of escalators pour out into the night to be together

the devil in this case is not moral blindness or half-knowledge,
but the intentional and vigorous application of energy…

there is no fire

connected to the stars the walls of pregnant window light above

earth’s surface finally the granules of parting of its own accord
once you’ve dropped it, dummy

all at once eating dinner off the night sky