Weather Translation

Having moved to one place

so far from home where

the earth gleams mutely from the sky down

onto mountain tops barely traceable,

whited out behind unknowable clouds,

and now receiving with two bleeps

of computer sound:

an email

from a strangerman who does not

spell your name right.

But says in lots of             words

and               lines—

that as far as you can tell mean    

nothing             and

the same thing at once—

something about measles shot,

needing documentation,

for reclassification,

enrollment, immediately, consideration.

But none of your family knows, when you

wait the necessary hours and

call them to ask, what measles shots is.

Looking

When looking is a full body endeavor 

Whip around to check out the curtain 

A new posture a new view

Lean forward with chest to unblurry the picture

Lay still and hope something interesting comes into focus

Track Listing

The dog filter, footsies, the fact that I persisted in saying

Trump was not inevitable, up until five minutes before

I stopped watching the count. It's shocking to think someone's

saying fuck you about me as much as I do 

when I see that bloody Snapchat garland.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Do I fidget too much on the

train, do I sound human when I'm overheard,

just one day, if I could, be a facsimile,

sit in on myself in judgement. 

Be tricked, dream dissonance, go see 

a nightclub mirror play. 

Split in three,

sleep with everyone,

be a reasonable messiah,

cook dinner,

sour the grapes. 

Sequencing an album,

trying to take someone somewhere,

teasing an arc out of disparate elements

knowing this is becoming a lost art 

of careful scooping,

of making a record seem like precise,

controlled distribution of wet stuff

on the belt at the biscuit factory;

always looks better before it comes out the oven,

in its glazed certainty, drippy optimism,

knowing back on the floor,

the pint glass won't come at my head if 

a track is out of place,

wondering what it is then,

that drives teens crazy.

Wondering if it's turning over far too fast now;

you're embarrassed by your twenties,

embarrassing in your thirties.

Can I be a fuck you?

Fuck you too?

I am a fuck you?

Fck u.

white

white means innocence
like the city sidewalks after a snow
when all the grime and shame is covered
and the streets glisten
until our footprints slowly disturb the pristine powder
eventually revealing our sins

THREE KINGS

On hold with Spectrum Business
who was Time Warner until yesterday,
now someone picks up the call - 
happy lunch sounds from hell,
a soft summer voice:
I’m sorry about that.
I’ll play guitar for Uncle Bill every day.
Cradle the wooden body atop 
patterned sheets.
2 sweaters, dirty hair, 
stretch my arms (for dad) 
–  buy floss.
Vexed to nightmare 
by a rocking cradle.
Sweetheart plagiarism scrambled 
in verse -  and I’m no better, 
no worse.