“Um. This is Benson Hughes, at 1212 Sunday Drive. I need to report that I’ve murdered my wife. Please send the police.”
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The nighthawk sings for us, that bird of corrosion and dust,
but don’t be afraid, autumn’s only an angel that brings the
darkworld of winter blooming white as infamous
asphodels.
wrenching myself over
the backs my ancestors offer me,
all for a chance
to prove that I have nothing
to prove.
They asked for
nothing nor answered
any question
except for the one I
knew there were no words for
Fox News accused me of destroying the fabric of America by giving away free drugs. I smiled politely and said:
“We will end drug crime in America,” then I followed Alicia to her office
You do not have to be
, good or bad, for stolen time
conducts the hours in delicate
arbitration
My skin always looks clearest
after I’ve been laid of
Leaving all the toxins
Behind.
This one, the girl unpinning her hair
do I hold the picture this way or that?