Rod Smith, p.2


The sun is not gutted
or out on tour. The back-slap
of facticity is lost
on the F train or else
available only
in outer space. The people
of Hanover, where they
make Utz, are genuine
with regard to their enthusiasms.
The essential writings
see them & say their adventure.
& yet, somehow unassailed,
is absolutely nothing.
The barber's concerns meld
or mesh with the cosmetologist's.
They are free.
The word pusillanimous
enters a conversation there, in Hanover,
& does not return. It has
gone home. Judgement
regarding this is not
worth a Knicks ticket.
If you place everything
you own in Hanover
it will disappear.