Covered Window


The skin of it puckers
and pools in lenses
bleached at the knots

a kind of drapery I guess
though oxidised
it might be the sun

but not real broke
not theatrical sugar broke
like that bottle trick

from tv, trinkle
of loops recorded
by guys long dead--

late for work
heads wrapped
in vinegar paper,

copping some attitude
with the bitches
in the mailroom, givin' it

the old watercooler
one-two--"I done
it for the in-surance"--

Well wave goodbye
to the glove
factory, girls;

fifty arches
of brick-cladded
rustbelt gothic

but only
the dollar store
in focus, trade goods lit

so sharp thru the fog
you could read
the shampoo instructions

from a passing bus
and still huff
on a candle bag,

deserted dairylands hiss
warm cokes rings of
green styrofoam here

like everywhere else,
arboreal shrinkage hiss
farmhouses curled

on wet glass,
north of pine nuts the
little trees eventually

damage the little
touches we like;
the windows replaced

with particle board as
if mushroom carpets could
think mushroom thoughts.

Trade goods
rinse and repeat
and repeat.

You see, I want
to be part of it
but I want to

make fun of it to--
concealing profits or
making a bed of them,

stuffing a turkey with it
or smashing it with a brick--
whose answerable needs met?




only a few more days to see Adam Harrison's show of photographs at CSA space. I wrote "captions" for Adam's catalogue, the first three of which I'll post above today, the rest tomorrow. But go see the show if you're in the area!