2 PoemsLBJ was a Texan
As if a grateful beginning
we open the day
before it’s begunIn some cases there are
sensory perceptions
& no question of intentsmell of corn tortilla
liquid on liquid sounds
business of a checkerboard
not wanting to distinguish
when we ache a lotmight it matter
all the time we go there
& lose something importantold fashioned absurdities
general state concerns
even enduring
kinds of useless thingsbetween CBS and the red
door of your chest
announcements are madenight comes rapidly warm,
I pick up your determined river
just before the oil is gonethe distance of an explanation
To Be Some Explaining
transports me here among us
out in the open, lie down—
we’ll make a thing of it.
There is again too much—
we are unsteady
full of grain & loose vowels
motor going in the night
yellow & dark underneathO, lonely aviator
spaces are long & necessary
the sky there remaining
points of light, not-light
everything it is happening
city is made of holes I mean.