For FOUND Magazine, Rachel Jackson, and John Ashbery
You will bore
through the thick strata
of fat paint globbed on windows
the march snow's own fatness
and it's own fallow mirth
the black keys nearby
and just slightly higher
Edgar Allen Poe & the Juke Box
felt each other up in the 8th grade
New Years parties
at the end of the mind
I heard you humming
USA IS A MONSTER
during the hourly reminder of Laguardian flight paths
and the bouquet of ashes, handbags
that lip below your eye
with the water-proofness of a seal.
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