For Amy Hirayama, Denny Stern, and Eric Acosta, during Altar / Alter at the Cherry Pit.

Originally written through and performed with the music of Denny Stern and Jim O’Halloran.

a poem about Arkansas in mid spring it’s like summer it’s like cool no clover just the thick and the birds and the trucks and the churches

THE FLESHY ONES

THE ONES WHO KNOW

THE ONES WHO COME

THE ONES WHO

COME OUT, COME ONCE

COME ALL, COME COME

when I dream I dream in shadow limb and shadow breath, the image of the breath that moves in and moves out as shadow, can you please pause and find the right position position anti position

THE FLESHLY ONES

A SINGLE

FLASH OF FLESH

AND HITHER I WANDER

A SMALL BOY

ARKANSAS

big canopy and big canyon, the grand canyon of the south where a lone tower watches perched above shitty postcards dusty from last summer and there’s no no no cold drinks and it’s in the 80s and the 90s and the sun is a heartbeat and the sun is a child leaping up you just want to sleep (don’t want kids still)

AUS ARK!

LAND OH THE LARK

AND IT WAS CHECKED

CHECKERS

SONIC

CHOCK FULL OF BURGERS

what’s your favorite postcard, what’s your favorite alleyway, your favorite veranda when you need to get off the veranda when you need to get off ol pioneer spirit when you need to jump into the bush or maybe it was the bush or the monsters in the bushes keep you away keep you wading keep you thick with sweat keep you keeping on keeping on creeping along the veranda just underneath the lip the veranda the veranda oh Miranda oh Miranda the new brand of Miranda-style verandas

IT WAS THE LAST OF US

THE LAST TEST

THE LAST HOORAH

THE FIRST PAW

ARKANSAS

SITTING AT THE STATION

FILLING UP

STARING OUT ON A HORIZON

RADIO SCREAMING

KILL THE WOKE

AND MAYBE LESS POETRY

a spasm in spring jumps above the crest of the wave and the man no bud in one hand but a shadow bud in it he says hey he says and puts the boat in reverse and there are no flames there is no fire just shadow fire TV fire the next moment is up for you it’s hot and the land is thick with fake memories and I’ve got a creature in my pocket Google Maps says it’s 5 stars

STARED AT A SPHINX

ROCK FORMATION

IN THE MOUNTAINS

FOREST ROAD RED

TICKET TINGLING

winter tales forgotten altered the Denny done did it done done played the done done did did done did he done did it done did he did he he did he did he licked it 

THE LICKETY IT

REMNANTS AND RITZ

CRACKERS NOSTALGIA

AND THE CONFEDS

FLAG LEANING

TOWARD THE DEAD

we was all dead once we was all a ritual we all flashed before the light before the flash there was the bulb bulbous we all bulbed before the lite the late the lit it everybody was lit up marquee the horizon was like Bellevue, naked city in the rain, keeping me call and it rests its neck on my shoulder, oh Bellevue, how I love staring at you, your shoulders, your neck, your breasts, your windows are freckles your imposition is intimacy the world is quaking how I wish to see you topple and then topple atop me

TOWARD THE DEAD

TOWARD MCCLURE IN SPRING TIME

TOWARD PAUL E. NELSON IN SPRUNG TIME

SPELUNKING AND PLUCKING

TOWARD AND THEN

SOME

PUKING

THE REST IS PUKE IS

WITCHERY

IS WITCHHUNT

IS INSTAGRAM IN PARIS

it was itchy brush / fiery sky June’s entrance / Ohio I love you

SUM OF THE PARTS

SUM OF THE SOME

SUM OF THE SUN

A WELL LIT SUN BEFORE

A WELL CLEANED ALTAR

AND THE CEILING RANG

eric performance art piece perfume the perforation the perf perf pass: frown piece

I AM FROWNING AT THE BEACH

AND I AM FROWNING

AS I AM MISTEPPING

THEY’VE SUCH

BEAUTIFUL GOLDEN LOCKS

WHY AM I FROWNING

lake Washington meets wawa at the core of the precipice of knowing, my mind rattled from years of LSD years of amphetamine psychosis psychopop poptart battle bots the lake wawa at the lake of the mind or on an island your orange my aplet my cotlet my bed of Neils, a thousand Neils emerging out of a bed of gnolls it’s dawn of the dungeons dusk of the dragons the dragging on the drag story time in perpetuity and on the flip of the same coin neo nazi cons on the periphery with bullhorns and rifles shaped like bull horns and I’m in Philly several years ago remembering the stick the way the bodies can cram themselves become crammed become become become

LAKE WASHINGTON

WHERE WE COLLECTED SPECIMENS

FOR OUR PERIPHERY

FOR THIS WEEK

LAND OF PASSAGE

LAND OF PEOPLES

MUCH OLDER THAN US

LAND OF LAND, OF SACRED, OF SAKE,

AND HERE I AM SACRED MEETING

THE LIGHTLY DRIED EDGE

OF THE GOOSE POOP SQUIG

and a flute goes flutter flutter fly away and I remember our earliest days that today’s couples therapy reminded me of, the couch the bedside the car, the land we sped over, sinking in and wandering away

LAND OF THE LUST

LAND OF THE FILTH

LAND OF THE PASSING PEOPLES

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

OUT OF THE GOOSE’S NECK

GOOSE QUACK

GOOSE CACKLE

SPLAT AND CACKLE

KUM AND GO

CACKLE AND SPACKLE

a place you can go where no one drinks and everyone hates

DRY COUNTY

SILENT WHITES

TALL AND FIRM

FACE LIKE A PAINTING

FACE LIKE A SCREAM

IN A PAINTING

THE MUCKRACKER

THE CLACK AND AWE

A PLACE

A BUFFALO RIVER PLACE

CRAMMED ON IN

CRAMMERY

keep it moving, to make, to make an offering, to make a make, to make an altar, to make a cram, to cram, to scram, to slam, to clam along the shores of the infinite clamness

THE SILENCE AND THE DEAD

GODSPEED

SILVER MT.

RAILROADS AND BROKEN TOYOTA GLASS

SHEERS

DO YOU REMEMBER MONTREAL

DO YOU REMEMBER FIREWORKS AND

THE DEAD

AMAZING

I AM ALWAYS IMPRESSED

BY YOUR RECREATION

YOUR WAY OF

DANCING

WITHIN

METAL

A

YAWN

A

VOICE RECORDING

ON WHATSAPP

LIKE A WATERFALL

OF BREATH

ENCODED IN TEXT

AKA

MY VOICE

AS BITS

STREAM

BULL

SHIT

TALK TO ME

LIKE I TALKED TO YOU

IN 2022

BEFORE YOU STOPPED

TALKING TO ME

OR LISTENING

WHEN WHATSAPP

UBIQUITOUS

BULLSHIT

LINGER

LANGUISH

SPUTTER

TINTED

INCON

SEQUEN

TEAL

LIKE MY EYES

AT 16

BEFORE THE GRAY

TURNED EM GREY

AND THE WOLVES

WICKEDLY

PRAYED

UPON

NOTHING

CAUSE HEAT