D a n a W a r d

 

from: T h e  O t h e r  S i d e  o f   K e n t u c k y

 

from the top of the Garfield garage
to the bottom of my shoe
a plush docility
rotates
egalitarian candy in the clouds
fattened hemlock, fattened post-flannerie
self-sandwich costumed in cellophane
if the drain chokes on it it's water
engineered to appear as lost comfort
the rose is a solid
buckled, like the pavement
history repeats for the eight time as lice
in autumn the moon in pixilated splendor
muzzled, why in the fuck are there mounties in this
city
the self is an aspirin, the face washed out
soused atrocity camper in cyberspace,
recalcitrant modem floatsam,
fluxus penguin aviary,
ice-tote.
from the jacuzzi of the dictionary you'd wash into
it's dunes
two dimming pricks of survival
the miles of filth that no radio reaches
the yawn & the sigh it breathes upon arriving
shaving pet escargot at dawn
work is the third secret of Fatima
the birds always say the feel freer in Kentucky
et tu, Oak tree, a la Courbsier
hedge hemogony
the suburbs are actually veal
my sweater full of snow
snow full of treble
shrill & white the ears cash out
the cash inflates rote harmonies
an economy of parsiminous fornication
bleeds into the air supply
to color all the salt that kills fish in the Ohio
like the dead sea amniotic & toxic
you can float
a balloon to marry
clouds are even lighter in the hand than in the eye
you can sell them
I got a hundred fake passports for mine.

 

Dana Ward is a poet living & working in Cincinnati.
His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Dad,
canwehaveourballback & as an Oasia broadside.



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