Maroon Canoe

o canoe, maroon canoe
over mesmeric waves we row
over an azure ionian sea
over mariners' mum communion
over icarus's un-ascension
over men-o'-war + runner missions
over ice-run ruins, over anxious cruises
over seismic omens + vesuvian ooze
we row, we row
ravenous sea, reassure me
reserve me an amnesia, caesura,
a serene unconscious ease

o canoe, maroon canoe
we row in seven rains + six monsoons
we row in summer snows
seven seasons wax + wane
we row near sorceress circe's manor
(six + seven swine nurse acorns, en masse aware)                        
we row near sirens + swoon severe
(voices immerse us, caress our ears in razor arias),
we row near mermen, oceanic emissaries on a wave
our oars announce us in murmur, in susurrous music
sonorous sea, connoisseur in snare: un-accuse, excuse me
aeonic erosion, receive me, examine + rewire
cure me + rename

a carmine sun commences an aurora, an amorous soiree
one moon arc answers in romance
orion rises + canis minor carves noir
a near aroma—some essence, some evanescence—
arouses in me remorse + reminiscence:
some once omission, some non-reunion, some
mirror version, some overcome
evasion, a misnomer, a woe, a sorrow—  o canoe,
maroon canoe, o sea swerve, o
ceremonious casanova,
o crimson sea serene,
unweave our sinuous maze, our nexus
renew me, new—no
secrecies, evasion—
a sum immersion in a now

o raw maria on moon, o unison sun,
o universe worn in unconcern,
issue a summons, convene + reconvene
+ answer me
is a souvenir a sorrow sewn
are cocoons meaner secrecies
is erasure a crime
is reverence so rare
is an error ever overcome

soon, maroon canoe; soon, reservoir severe:
a missive scriven in cruor, in rime

Today Mr. Rufo

Today Mr. Rufo died. During a game of bocce ball, 
he leaned on his friend's shoulder and died.
Just five minutes before we found out, Jon and I 
had been walking with our dumb, bourgeois fruit smoothies,
and we stopped by a bush that had all these purple flowers
bursting out of it, and I said, Look how the dead flowers
are a darker purple, a bluish blackish purple
and the live flowers are magenta. Do you think
the dead flowers used to be magenta, or did all 
the darker purple flowers die first?  
(The dead flowers crumpled closed like soggy 
paper umbrellas, while the live ones stretched open, each 
like a child's hand reaching—)

Afterwards, all the family came and assembled and
sat outside together on the patio.  For days, I did not see
Mrs. Rufo. She must have been inside the house
all that time. Meanwhile a big yellow garden spider
built his web above the plot of dirt and weeds 
and wildish plants that's just beside their outside staircase.
It's true that spiders are noiseless, I realized, 
watching the spider in its nonstop industry, listening to the spider.
All of us have read "A noiseless patient spider…" 
but to hear, really, that absence of sound
is something altogether different. Because the soundlessness
is transparent and shaped like a geometric plane.  
It casts a silent white shadow that's bigger 
than the spider is big, and when the spider dies, 
the silence that replaces its silence 
is bigger than the spider's silence was big.

Text Message

oni, u rancorous scam, u  r  no rare ace.
no common sense. no sure win.
no amour. no sex. no career.
no suave swimwear, size six.
no amazonian eminence.
no renaissance in consciousness.
mere ire over asinine nuance.
u  r  so mesozoic era.

u rinse romaine + secure onions.
u use sour cream on venison.
u season noxious wieners.
coarse carnivore, u even wean + crisco sows  
+ worse, simmer simian viscera   
+ savor maximum cinnamon.
moreover, u evince ruinous manners.

ever since u came,
nauseous raccoons swoon + swerve near cars in manassas, va.
immense moose rave averse in maine.
monas wince in cameroon + zaire.
caimans careen in irreverence in so. american rivers.
nice vicunas amaze in serious cusses.
ewe emissions serve as severe consensus.
vermin vow never near.
even sea anemones voice censure.
wrens, vireos, caracaras, anis, emus, swans, macaws, canaries + cranes
maroon u, swear avian au revoir.
messiaen concurs.
eminem weaves mean verses on u.

o, oni, scorn us now,
now ur careworn carcass awes us.
a carrion-crow carves ur cameo, no
novocaine. incisive. immune.
nerve minus nerve is zero, or
noose, noon, nirvana: an
oceanic oasis. a rearview mirror.
can u recover now, oni?
can u crown ur cranium now, 
can u rise in ur worm ascension?

we are ur vice, ur versus, ur
vice-versa, ur mesmeric new avarice, 
ur concussion, ur amnesia (a caesura is u now, oni.)
(a caesura is ur new maison, ur caisson casa.)
we are ur arsenic, ur assassin, 
ur anemia, ur anorexia nervosa.
we consume u, corrosive. we assess u.
we are ur vision, ur rescue mission, ur anima, 
u. we use u. ur winsome camera crew:

coroner, commence exam, + camera man, zoom in:
a waxen woman, wear-worse.
corneas, ears + nose aswarm.  
some recession on cranium.
venomous incisors, enormous.
varicose veins.
cursive arms over cavernous core.  
nurse: scissors, ammonia.  
carve in, coroner: mince, examine:
carmine amnion. uranium in urine.  
in marrow, one amino amiss.

Dear Lonely Animal,

I'm writing to you from the loneliest, most
secluded island in the world. I mean,
the farthest away place from anything else.

There are so many fruits here growing on trees
or on vines that wrap and wrap. Fruits
like I've never seen except the bananas.

All night the abandoned dogs howled.
I wonder if one dog gives the first howl, and if
they take turns who's first like carrying

the flag in school. Carrying the flag
way out in front and the others
following along behind in two long lines,

pairs holding hands. Also the roosters here crow
from 4am onward. They're still crowing right now
and it's almost noon here on the island.

Noon stares back no matter where you are.
Today I'm going to hike to the extinct volcano
and balance on the rim of the crater. Yesterday

a gust almost blew me inside. I heard
that the black widows live inside the volcano
far down below in the high grasses that you can't

see from the rim. Well, I was going to tell you
that this morning the bells rang and I
followed them and at the source of the bells,

there I found so many animals
all gathered together in a room
with carved wooden statues

and wooden benches and low wooden slats
for kneeling. And the animals were there
singing together, all their voices singing,

with big strong voices rising from even
the filthiest animals. I mean, I've seen animals
come together and sing before, except in

high fancy vaults where bits of colored glass
are pieced together into stories. Some days
I want to sing with them.

I wish more animals sang together all the time.
But then I can't sing sometimes
because I think of the news that happens

when the animals stop singing.
And then I think of all the medications
and their side effects that are advertised

between the pieces of news. And then I think
of all the money the drug companies spent
to videotape their photogenic, well-groomed animals,

and all the money they spent to buy
a prime-time spot, and I think, what money
buys the news, and what news

creates the drugs, and what
drugs control the animals, and I get so
choked I can't sing anymore, Lonely Animal.

I can't sing with the other animals. Because it's
hard to know what an animal will do when it
stops singing. It's complicated, you know, it's just