Poems by year: 2007  2006  2005  2004  2003  2002  2001  2000 
By series: Bridge St  In Yr Ear  Ruthless Grip

fool proof

[after Jørgen Leth]


here is the perfect human, standing on the edge of a
head, watch the bookends of the head crinkle, the natural
coil of skin folding, bundle up under margarine jowl as

the bullpup’s guitar strap tightens, today we watched
cardboard voting boxes fold open like televisions, reminded
her about the world famous peanut butter cookies in an

email, cleaned something meticulously, here’s the perfect
human writing an email, not opening inappropriate files
because someone’s looking over his shoulder, hear this

jargon, lethal in its transparent nature, remember, our
enemies might be reading this, there is the shoulder
doing something suspicious, watch the shoulder as it turns

when tarring something picturesque, planting a telephone
pole under his chin so that when the gas of simmering organs
smorgasbords the entire hotel can smash their cellphones after

this broadcast, after that broadcast, she sits in a bathtub
because she was told to, this is her sitting in a bathtub, shampoo
bottles Chernobyl, she manages to smile Chevron, here is the

analogy he uses when talking about making you cum
you’re like a finicky gas pump, where in the world
did he come up with that one?  


heels pivot for the tiny reels of new celluloid, thumbs up & a palm pistol
points cocked & shivering , he smoked contraband in the back
of their armored escort & thought about the impending wedding,

here is the forehead you kissed last night, look at the forehead
you kissed, has it changed since the last time you touched it?
where is the photograph of it now? point to your favorite place,

where’s the bullpen in this aerial photo, here’s where the bullpen
used to be in this aerial photo of a ghost town, where did he
stand on your head? this is where the dictionary ended in the

middle, where the gutters were set on fire to blur sky cameras,
see the perfect human holding, see the perfect holding procedure,
& there again is a shoulder, guard rail bent at the elbow,

functioning differently under these conditions, concealing steel
protein that banana clips when convoys volley, in the penthouse
they leaned mattresses against the recessing veranda, turned out

the lights & radioed home, when you accidentally broke his finger  
we started to question the perfect pleasure procedure, did they
photograph it back together? a single match will never be enough,

here is the perfect human smoking a Cohiba, a sheath of
Dominican leaf warms the wagon’s hearth while traveling slowly
over ice borders, shoulders holstered to one another, blending

with every pothole 


point at the cluster of grey you thought was a cavity, can you
extract this imperfection with as little damage as possible?
look at the perfect human’s knees, these are her knees, kiss

suspension bridges before you commit these most modern
atrocities, the ones she ruins your shoulders over, here is
a shoulder doing something suspicious, this perfect human

confiscating all the cameras from office to footlocker, this is
the photograph of the Camaro waiting for him back home,   
what was this about a mattress saving you from the ceiling?

here is a back, here is where I washed your elbow, point
to the place you want me to follow, is the perfect human
allowed to interrogate tonsils? did you really like it when

I slipped & fingered the underground silo? look at the route
where he smokes the Cohiba, to help him think he keeps
the hands busy, keep them busy so they can’t think, he is

shaving in a trench dug between bridal suites, Gatorade
lubricates triple blade, look at the green glucose dribble
down with copper stubble, foreground grey like a siren, you,

more often than you’d like to admit, envision a camera filming
some of your regular daily activities, there is the camera
hovering at an angle over your shoulder, look at the shoulder

commanding, common procedure for them to be
standing, dangle wire does the man handle

there is a wire 


someone climbed a tree & hung a wind chime in the middle
of the woods, it’s the creepiest sound in the world, hear
the creepiest sound in the world, the perfect human climbs

the staircase of your torso & licks the map where too many
nerves are stored, nave of their state we will carpet where
commerce commences, watch the perfect human standing

on the edge of box, hood around the soft balcony, wood
crate, there are the toes that grip the contour of its
ledge, here is something to be put into a box & counted

later, a finger dipped in purple ink points at the erosive
mushrooms that jostle molars, the slow motion exodus
is the beginning of the end, here is the shoulder changing,

the gravel disturbed just enough to arouse suspicion, sand
colored tan hide devices like freckles after  we picnic on
suspects, look at the moving, see her sitting, see her pressed

into a space, curled into a ceramic cocoon, here is the
perfect wrist we licked together, a soft spigot wearing a
hole into stubborn ceramic, remind us how to properly

label this torpedo, etiquette dictates it should be removed
before smoking, she is smoking the last cigarette in the
country, he is trying desperately to relight something, there

is the perfect human laying on the ground, read the
list of things he wanted to say to you
but could only think of them now


here is the perfect human standing on a shoulder,
on a torso or positioned on both a folded arm & its calcium
hinge, trembles form the weight but the Birkenstock bends

to ball & socket even when it kirks out a bit, policymakers
huddle formaldehyde, please point to the person who held
you, what do you think would be the perfect way to hold

him? knuckles conspire to become a hammer, fingers
attach files to the homelandish descendants where
heritage fatigues are grafted over husbands, look there, 

here are two shoulders, brought together by chance &
procedure, one churning blood into butter, one collapsed
like sand into the other, in the middle we both travel through

its alley & we remember to cruise lightly in packs of
humming enzyme, pull up a human standing 

standing on a human gutter