In my spiderweb
You got caught,
My precious.

And Cathay was not China.
And Vietnam was not China
Nor made in China—but close enough.

The sun drills a hole between my shoulder blades
I am ashamed that I want self-degrading things
I burn for no reason like a lantern in daylight

Overshadowed by colors
Like the deep
Sea of the dictionary

“Alas,” he thinks, “a perfect day for a walk.”
But first he steps outside to take a look.

no thank you I don’t want to spend my life
giving extreme unction to a crowd of toads

At the party: they surround him and his chair.

“So it was in the morning, then,
that you first put this hat on your knees?”

You were thinking about something as luscious and royal as a dumbbell,
Small and cold, about to tilt, then smash to silver coins.
You were thinking about something so illogical and blissful,

To keep an assignation with oneself, one must, as a matter of course, break in two.
There is you in the snow by the banks of the river, your lips cold and blue,
Your hands fulminating with your first true love.

Resist. Resist:
Dehind, dehist.
Return the clear glass to the kitchen forthwith.