When my time comes
will trees stretch the ground

as far as sleep can reach
as far as the eyes fall

will autumn be something to touch
clawing at mud walls

or will winter pine for cracks
for an intimacy of fire

In what way will this time
be mine

to sink into the dreams
of all the men who walked before

and to feel that I lived that
a few minutes before

for Lindsay

An army travels on its stomach
in front of you. Mine is just inches away

from where we last saw our comfort
in each other, interupted by some
running around. Yesterday, alone,

I filmed the willow changing over sunset.
There was no film involved, but I still say
filming, like I still want to show it to you.

Full of reds, golds, bowl of high school
drama club stars, it’s just standing there

while inch by inch grades of colors steepen.
They say our country stinks of war now,
that you know this repose, cupped by trees

and learning how to scale with evening,
eats blood, has always eaten blood.
I can only think dazedly about that,

because right now we have enough to eat,
and the last light leaves rusty trails as she goes

I forget about the energy it takes
in giving up to you what is caesar’s
will on the people, like a meaty thumb
I forget about the cost and the gain
what sets them apart

Where there’s no difference
the Federal Government steps in and
overseas we’re eating grass and leaves
Back then we were waiting for vikings
forever on the beach, cheating debt

Clovis, I says, what if we just
stopped giving much of a fuck
to corrupt and lonely clerks
who give you the business

I guess it depends on how much we have left, huh
I had sworn for years that this was where I lived

for Lindsay

RON PAUL: These vascular fantasies. Drinking myself as a dolphin, the Good Lord took her low bodice and froze in place. Placards nurse maps you can fumingly scribble on the room, or they may lay down beautiful without sweat-pants on at last, overflowing displacement. Most of all, all of us give in.

NEWT GINGRICH: On just such a day I crumble as she murmurs to the modem, on just such a day as you as well as you act right, play favorites with venison and a lean or high strung flavor, on pills bored with silence, just chilled on just so-and-so day, as the story was.

RICK SANTORUM: Eat mostly fruit and nuts.

MITT ROMNEY: My stomach is just a little bit upset. I was a little blind I guess. Something has to happen to him–it could be a big thing or a little thing. Tied cloth around an interrupted trunk–what does it mean?

NEWT GINGRICH: It’s certainly not the kind of letter a married woman receives from a casual acquaintance. I’m sure this neglect is unintentional.

MITT ROMNEY: The squid the squaw the lid, once, the pill the shrimp the spit, again, ripped.

RON PAUL: Interesting. Federal leaves leaking atop one another’s bodies, the have-nots, half anvil half fruits and nuts. I crumble as she murmurs to the modern. I have given up counting.

I’m spitting the smoke out in front of me. It makes a trail in cold air. Marked differences fiddle with your knobs and gnarled woods burl up toward the sun, the sunny day that vanquished me, your skewed root with skill and illness. A skull fruit of boiling needles boring relentlessly with vacation slides, that two week dying that took only seven days until. I’m splitting a stroke out upon the lonely waves. It makes a tail on you in ruddy thaw times, and the time before that you’re restlessly rubbing me down there, there’s no way to copy.

Hairy wooden box, leprechaun, hairy wooden honorable and hairy wooden clack shut. Ash hung pants eventually, they said in one dream, but in quite another it took seven days, we boiled it up to the sun. And here back now stalling just where one month where one month should hum along, but don’t. Touch that dial, it’s got. Dick on his picture of motorcycles sits and listens to worship rowing flowers across the roll in the dark. The ridge.

A goddamned crying shame call.

I roll I roll, row the flow over your soul your “soul,” I roll role roll like a mighty behavior or motion, like the surface of something essential to you, so much so you barely remember it. You remember that blue dumpster outside of Lakeview Elementary School, don’t you? Your father must wander near it forever.