-
On e
dgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgeedgedgedgedgedgedge
Along
the scaled wall, me ditching
the
fungal afternoon
for
a pipedream I keep swinging
at with this boomwhacker. The exercise
exploded
into a chest’s
desire for
five rivers’ names as Ol’
Guiltree crabwalked through the outdoor
mall again, ninefaces
Aflame
in this area
Of
maximum
surface to be desired back by.
Targets on benches revolve into a winterscape.
On
e
silent
Chinaman, Uncle You-Again, floats through the postgame
arena
where movement was proven
impossible
in Rome. I
showed them in the ditch off Gammon
an
angel’s maw,
wheels spinning a perfect homage to wheels.
I
point to proven points on a map
and
surprise them with the authority of my pinky.
The tenderness of the takeover.
–
MouseMutt
was out there too those days,
in a rented RomeWig too big for
him,
tonguing the mantra
—Look.
But don’t glare, pupils— I shout back: it’s time
for commitments, @birdiesir!
(he’s
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
temple!
Some know this tune without my explanation. Still,
정이라는
것이 있으니까,
I
try to win him over
th
e
dgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgedgeedgedgedgedgedgedge
Along
the scaled wall, my thumbs
smearing
the
frosting over photos
of that cave of sequence we
stopped at
to
look like we understood
what
we were there for.
Remember
how I imported him
the
memory
How
right
about then the rain would pour
in the middle of a dormant fountain?
—
A
National
Wonder
drenched in the distance
I
couldn’t for days see through my love for?
The infinite need for a hairspace, one
short?
Covered
in the fading
tarp
of the sky?
It’s been gone since the livestreamed flames.
Competing
for our fancy
funding
was the war, tightening its new brass bolo tie,
the
wedding,
the
second wedding for the white half, which had to be bigger
and better, with fries.
A
book of falls with captions, that book flapping
as
it falls,
unlike
my phone that just clapped against the mixed
woods,
into the canyon between the shelf and
the wall
one
morning
without
the chainsaw outside my window,
the pages performing a community
force
in the flock of redeyed
purplenecks
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.
MouseMutt
and Guiltree and Uncle You-Again,
setting
their flasks aside, team-tackle a pigeon.
I
stand back with a pen that exploded on the flight
over
and think but don’t write
thoughts
that unincorporate
afterthought.
— -
We
wait for orange
to
go flipflopping along the river, our mustaches
forgivenesses’
tails,
saying
brother, brother,
after
the war꼭
한잔 하자고
Post-it:
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
under
the darkle
of
its wing.
I
see where we go when we blink.
— –
I
blink in the dark and think that was pointless. I have
empty
eyedropsules,
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.
