DEAR WEIRDO

holding your hair
whilst you vomited wine
was neither fancy
tispy kite
nor licorice yoke
nor happy deadly whip
though I did think of
calling the diabetic
shooting your
churched wine
but deer
won't we
almost spend
an okay time
spread eagle
on tarmac
whilst mail planes
docile as carp
turn fin and wane

__

DEAR WEIRDO

my dream involves
clay balls placed
at serious intervals
on the woods and
hay mow floor
warm flour hair
love may I
make a bread
of how you run
real birds
soothed in
the soft rock
of your pocket cloth

__

DEAR WEIRDO

I open my mouth
let you sit to the soft of my tongue
the rocks of my teeth
names rubbed free
by storms and by suns
all country quiet
like a bear
about to come back
out of the drug
of his breath
soon
farm kids make duck heads
of their hands
and
calling to the others
dive

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Abraham Smith says he would like to eat a quiet dinner with Geoff Chaucer, Virginia Woolf, Knut Hamsun, and Jean Rhys.