I’ve declared newspapers I’ve declared doorsteps
I’ve brought my enemies a chamber pot covered
with letters written in organic straw
I carried a little reasoning along for rescue work
and seasoned the possible with a willing and a floating meadow
there was a long piece of misunderstanding held by the rebels
who were going to lose to the authorities who called themselves
rebels once more and replaced themselves
(I collected a grateful widow and her deliciously wooden children)
because I’m guilty of a spectacle given to me by my fog
and because I waited and because my radio only talks
(no singing corrupts air waves / no dancing stretches out from its broadcast front)
and because the people always wanted the one thing
inside that stayed behind its head with a slight concussion
I had an army in my head I didn’t know how to use
every year more lost loves in my beard surrender
tea was a new way of seeing things
one town on the hill with the churches
and the other in the swamp with the money
I wanted more stuttering and wraparound limbs
the adverbs were young wore black jackets with red tennis shoes
I told Melanie penmanship I didn’t have any but knew
where to get a six-pack I had some truth but knew enough to save it till later
I found a box of crying left open on the bed where the body had fallen
containing its theories about the psychology of political detectives
(not the tree but the idea of the tree entered a box of wooden boxes)
because the bed was tired late last night I woke it up and took it home
dancing its bad stories wanted to meet every one of those
willing people who thought we were lovers and
I put their opinions in a drawer
closed them
the ones that were still open
the ones that always come back
the ones with their own containers