Drew Gardner, p.3


you can’t do everything twice the first time, no
wait, for a deer to stick its head out of the platter

I’ll have a Dewar’s on the rocks, and walk through air
actually, could you make that a McSorley’s?
as grains begin to grow again
by accident or intention

what is boring—why?
what is frightening—why?
what is funny, and why?
is what is meant here by politics

the neighbor’s phone, the bowl of olives test
the veracity that children knock the tone bars to the garden floor
disappears into a blank reflecting base
with no suggestions
to choose it or become an idiot
the skeletons asleep until the spring

that mistake is broadcast for a reason
to allow things to happen
sustaining sky, out of my tree
the roots are its star’s fruit

let it not be random, and not calculated
a pot of tea whose purpose stayed the same

we saw water running down a green door, flames
passing over tankers in the night

the silence yields to gentle pressure
biting the last one before you go to sleep
is broadcast

who are we now pressed against the research
everything collapses into
winding up somewhere different

and if it’s changed
it is completely changed
they both are
for having come together

if you don’t hear it, you can’t hear it
like when it doesn’t happen at all
for a while
lighting up the darkened rooms of myriad inhabitation

the decency of the people of the world
sustains a form of love become resistance

what I mean to say is
there is cause for celebration
and connected and alive
is quickly a way I never noticed
to follow

the years pass their form
no longer at the mercy of its disappointments
has wound up being a carried oasis

pouring over the costume’s gutter

the whole work is
knowledge plus capacity
which produces method

a created flower
the telephone left on the elevator floor

when I’m gone, remember
it’s not me saying this
or a blank island that choruses the tombs of world

turn the brightness outward

at a concert
of all things getting loose