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The first day in the garden, God wasan immigrant who planted gulls in clouds. Even the smallestleaflet untangled solar filaments with prudencedissimilar to fire. Did Adam first teach God the wordfor sew or word for plunder?What tenderness people show—it mattersthe recipient is visible.The apple lacked grammarfor red, or fall.The world pulled it.It pulled the world back.
Enter the dust devils, the dervish grasses, prairie schooners creeping in their ruts. Enter sod busters and ploughshares, settlers in dugouts raving in the wind, John Brown in a God-rage,Bible in one hand, rifle in another, bleak whitewashed farmhouses blinding in August light.awl, adze, hoe, axe, and maul, reaper, thresher, harrow,stone boat, corn crib, farrow pen,slop
Polyphonicas a frog heartbeating without the frogand hearts of different sizesbumping aroundinside itit is bestthe sound of the Atlanticentering a bungalowfrom arounda Basque mountainthe old waywindows facing inlandbay’s wind at my backwakes me looking into dirtI go trekand find the coastI live onsalty wafer of aircuts early through the bedroomits rush ricochetinga blue