America the Brave 

The gas station attendant is
about to burst into flowers The

florescence can now steady longer
their beams of light What of

rebellion ignites the fragments
of gravity’s weighty peel A poodle hides

inside four-dimensional coke bottles America,
do you take note of your own terrible

aptitude This nation fills its holes with
the life of dead geese Bring

the bucket raise the level There’s
much to measure and not enough space

You’ve Stopped

singing in the shower, and I’ve given
up trying to eat healthy. there

is a point to attempt. something about
image, something about imagination,

recoil of a spring-bound screen-door, weighty
push at your back when you

welcome me in. you’ve left the television on.
a talk-show host is counting barrels

of syphoned fat. this is what
America has become, and neither

of us drop our coffee cups to
this linoleum floor, or spill creamer

on this countertop. we just continue
talking of those bowls in the sink, the

stained sheets, and what to do when
the dog is sick and losing pieces of
its stomach in the front yard.