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     Frankie & Johnnie    

“In that case, I should advise you to attempt by every method practicable and impracticable to conceal the fact instead of making it glaringly apparent—“
—E.E. Cummings

The gunners link as parents lounge,

The four impossible complexions, old structures, another

For now. She went for the chair that took all of her staples,

Pouring over the trousers.

I remember him for I know that my entire left

Is how one must remember a hemorrhage,

Or teaspoons dry with one’s medicine.

Incubational, repeatedly straightened and pressed

To match a young man’s skill and shape.

In language, the pause will promise some effort. The fabric,

In a lateral sense, bags the silence, through the focus of cells

It is held together. It was silence once,

And now she has put him and them askance on her settled knees.

This is your bet to stay long. Walks to the end of a new street

Just after moving in, are planet-like, noticeable.

Complete with direction to forget the black whale truth

That once questioned their firm backs packed into bottles.

A complexity rocking the initial or glare alley,

Along with leaflets virtual and born to the girl,

Once of husband, once thinking she was known in this way.

Screaming of land. That's mind,

Screening eyes from the sun

With bread before it’s eaten. That day

A fighter poured onto a land

Going into an occasion,

And followed into occasions, he being there

Made them ring in pitch and attention.

Being shown there are stations elsewhere

Where provide the distance to return home.

An example holy, made his atoms with it.

A little part of him grunted to run home, to not ever again

Make that same continual noise.

As he said, safe here, he returned to his feet, waiting again

For those perfect and giving movements

That looked just like him alone.

The squeaky bunk, terrible to settle into at night,

And stars left behind what keeps happening. Amen, complete silence

On that, not smoking a word.

On into air, then his chest, unattainable there.

Suggestions were beach eased. I'd like to like you again.

Although he told his daughter to approach slowly

In the open market, where her gestures can’t seem businesslike

Once more. It’s her face that relives conditions in a body

That needs the immediate calling to mind.

Knowing her emblem starts at my braids.

She is fair when distressed.

Her husband, leaning his good ear

Against the screen to hear the static

Of the never talked of.

The acceptance of dropping

To the ground, unknown to the arms,

Made in quaternion space.

And to say something for the rock

Standing, and the I dropping, is

Conservatively preferred in the learning

That shakes from sudden amusement.

To the east, Anglican men look and look, normally to copy

Everything on bits of cow.

In her mouth, then, as she sniffs, breaths

That rise through gray eyes

That her father’s heaven may disdain.

For the roots are settling now along the house,

And soon we should consider this place old,

 With the age so barren to proper account.

Meanwhile                                         

sometimes of travel, those taken are carried

and released as though trusted and left in a new field,

puzzled by those who called this space the negative,

who called for matters and declared their suspicions

clinical, of going under a thin sheet, met with

an entire night, then secured by the discovery that

there was a new surface for the known cause, moved

by each new turn in each new range of what was then

to be, there diced by feckless enthusiasm, whether waved on

alone or asked to hold place with others, those who wait