“The figure should be natural and relaxed,”
   asserted Mucha to his drawing class,

In the country, a dog is as free as a roach

One morning I awoke
to a dead pigeon on the roof
of the building next to mine,

Plinth: the ring of truth and false pretenses
Plinth: the sound of a plucked string
Plinth: or gravel

I have been going about as usually do when, suddenly, without warning, I am overwhelmed by some feeling. There it is. As real as anything.

We are all connected, one unto another.

I am riding down Fifth Avenue on a bus. A woman touches my leg and speaks of forests. My need unfolds like a newborn’s limb, stiff and uncertain. She whispers close and I tremble as we reach my stop.

1956: She is the girl with the biggest
breasts in Sloan, Iowa. She will take
a backseat to no one. He is young

I don’t want to write the great American novel
And set people walking across the pages of a book
Doing things like sweating on page 4, praying on page 45,

It isn’t easy. We work
without a goal. We have never followed
directions. Splicing together