three for the seesaw


 
 
Crumpling the faces
who live in the folds
they
dare gaze
 
Wood grain
determines a
structure don't
depend on the
fixative in my
tears. Said the
pitiable but
sympathetic
eponymous hero.
 
(I want the eye
of the public to
see)

 
Two simultaneous
time lines, each
in a different
country, it's
pointed up like
the rain, but
we're all lazy
now: dishes
boxes husbands
grey cool sky
messages tricky
raining out
saying "we shall
be released"
 
CIA soviets
siren on down to
the juke box,
pick out some
jingles and
seppuku. Put
them in prism
where they'll
have time to
refract.
 
By *concrete*
he meant the LCD
display that
kept yelling
Silliman Watten
Hejinian. A curd
sat beside her and
she spotted with
mold.
 
(I want the eyes
of the public disease)

 
Anthony comes
home, drinks a
beer. Claire
calls to say
"I've been
putting names in
my writing" Ben
says we're
desperate, we
put our friends'
names in, we
recognize
something.
 
(I want the eyes of
the puppet to see)

 
Better than the
deliberate rectangles
Herbert Hoover
pretended, or
the reverse type
manifestoes, a hill
of blueberries
threatening to
collapse on those
who dare climb
it, meaning
the sexual threat
of just leaving
the house.
 
(I want the eyes of
the poppet disease)

 
Your name may be
death's head,
well, mine's
made up.
 
(I want the eyes
of the puppy to
seal)
 
 
a: confusion is artifice. wipe off that paint.
b: I did and saw bland shapes (I ached to be beheld)