Jerry is a tireless builder. Today he is making a
tool shed.
Last year he made a picnic table. He once turned
an all-season radial into a swing, lassoed it around a totem pole.
It became
petrified. I have also. I think that lasso saved my life.
Back at
the camp, you make coffee, apply mink oil to his boots. Shit and
sleep deep in the woods. The shade on the page or skin.
And as you
read, the shade at the end of the page recedes into white. He senses
danger, memory, and a sense of loss. One double
consonant cannot satisfy. Diphthong I am.
I press deeply into the
forest floor, leaving impressions but no trace. Andrew Genzoli
is all strung out. Margarine (can’t
get enough). I think it may be a maypole. Tie yellow ribbons. Snow
still stalls.
Oil the chain. Mark a mark
|
