2 Poems

LBJ was a Texan

As if a grateful beginning we open the day before it’s begun In some cases there are sensory perceptions & no question of intent smell of corn tortilla liquid on liquid sounds business of a checkerboard not wanting to distinguish when we ache a lot might it matter all the time we go there & lose something important old fashioned absurdities general state concerns even enduring kinds of useless things between CBS and the red door of your chest announcements are made night comes rapidly warm, I pick up your determined river just before the oil is gone the distance of an explanation transports me here among us out in the open, lie down— we’ll make a thing of it. To Be Some Explaining There is again too much— we are unsteady full of grain & loose vowels motor going in the night yellow & dark underneath O, 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.

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