I’m eating sliced cheese and cucumbers
on a smudgy mattress with no sheets
My nose isn’t patrician yet but lyric still
has dead fish for eyes. Gleam w/o consequence
in the unnamable country where the lion lets more
of his apples get licked by his sacred lice
Can you find the “secret police” in that line
and seven more tilt-a-whirl tokens
There is always this mechanism skimming language from strife
Licking sweat off his upper lip, the solder ______________.
2
in poems about deer the sea and a beaten child
dreamy accusation running down the cheap middle
of nowhere motels doing Fuck-all, semi-
florid, flagrant Florida orange visitor What
advantage the eye can take
from vagrancy on the in-sweep of
its foamy tide language folded
a long time in the shallows
I mean what we have described, have we extorted
