the scaled wall, me ditching
the fungal afternoon
for a pipedream I keep swinging
at with this boomwhacker. The exercise
into a chest’s
desire for five rivers’ names as Ol’
Guiltree crabwalked through the outdoor mall again, ninefaces
Aflame in this area
maximum surface to be desired back by.
Targets on benches revolve into a winterscape.
silent Chinaman, Uncle You-Again, floats through the postgame
arena where movement was proven
in Rome. I
showed them in the ditch off Gammon
an angel’s maw,
wheels spinning a perfect homage to wheels.
point to proven points on a map
and surprise them with the authority of my pinky.
The tenderness of the takeover.
was out there too those days,
in a rented RomeWig too big for him,
tonguing the mantra
But don’t glare, pupils— I shout back: it’s time
for commitments, @birdiesir!
my barber’s barber,
he admits the RomeWig is scratchy)
I keep going: beyond tempered adoration for a freckle
once pecked out of the screensaved
Some know this tune without my explanation. Still,
I try to win him over
th e dgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgeedgedgedgedgedgedge
the scaled wall, my thumbs smearing
the frosting over photos
of that cave of sequence we
to look like we understood
what we were there for.
how I imported him
right about then the rain would pour
in the middle of a dormant fountain?
drenched in the distance
I couldn’t for days see through my love for?
The infinite need for a hairspace, one
in the fading
tarp of the sky?
It’s been gone since the livestreamed flames.
for our fancy
funding was the war, tightening its new brass bolo tie,
the second wedding for the white half, which had to be bigger
and better, with fries.
book of falls with captions, that book flapping
as it falls,
unlike my phone that just clapped against the mixed
into the canyon between the shelf and the wall
without the chainsaw outside my window,
the pages performing a community
force in the flock of redeyed
taking flight to the conference
at the fountainside, the lifted-off sidewalk
lifting after them, feeling
felt, left, winged, like picking up
a hammer today and circling a schoolyard.
and Guiltree and Uncle You-Again,
setting their flasks aside, team-tackle a pigeon.
stand back with a pen that exploded on the flight
over and think but don’t write
thoughts that unincorporate
wait for orange
to go flipflopping along the river, our mustaches
saying brother, brother,
after the war꼭
we’ll watch, saltbreathed, as Uncle You-Again
throws a stingray back
into the ocean, the promotional
fountain the others feed from, needing something more
tubular to hack.
The surface takes it
of its wing.
see where we go when we blink.
blink in the dark and think that was pointless. I have
a floating fishbowl in my hands
Jed Munson’s [Photo by Keum-ji Son] first chapbook, Newsflash Under Fire, Over the Shoulder, was published with Ugly Duckling Presse in 2021. Silts appeared with above/ground press in 2022. His work has appeared in Conjunctions, P-QUEUE, Full Stop, and others.