1. Within an hour we had formed his body Of aluminum bent with vices Over a Bible. The last thumb Was claimed at the baggage terminal. You should stand stiffly And hold your stomach in, In the house where you hide, Where soldiers replace the roof With clouds of pollen. Already, they have loosened its lips. 2. The chorus struggles with rough diction. In a portrait drawn by Wittgenstein, The chicken proves its own representation. Overhead and with elevated blood pressure, The sky begins to skin over Our calloused understanding. Bells are quiet this morning To a woman deaf since birth. Someone points to her Lifting memories From a shopping cart into the light. 3. I've been thinking of a color I would like to invent. More examples of light On the sleeper train Bathed in darkness, filled with smoke. Despite all expectations, Rain hangs motionless In the air above our heads. Tonight I finally noticed the one Beside me in bed Breathing oceans Into glacial melt. 4. We rise early, Leave unfinished dreams For the children to dissect. They watch crows mating in the neighbor's yard. I hadn't spoken in the first person for a while, So you thought to paint my face As a mirror. I'm not sure what we should call it. Yesterday, I fell from the plane Into a flock of geese Heading south. They say I will not be returned. Not even traded. ////// Timothy Brennan is a poet, painter and woodworker who has lived and worked in San Francisco, Brooklyn, and now New Paltz, NY, where he has been renovating his old house for over thirty years.
Lightwood 