Rest House

 

I imagined a hole in the earth,

an orifice     holding the earth

to itself     charred earth


waking in circles     and

circles of workaday bushes


Maybe a hole in the bushes
blew to the center of  fathomable earth

People
frozen

marking theirselves

as their souls, divided by
the stem
of their nations


I imagined a breeze
and the finely honed thoughtlessness

of going to where
you do not want to be

people going to where
they do not want to be

with purpose     they are good at it


I imagined
a circular memorial

concealing the cave of  bone dust

shooting all the way to the spherical river

in the shallowest part of the center of earth

to save
those deprived of their deaths,     became dust,

lightning     racing
into the earth


I imagined meditation    walking in circles

the site of the murder of many thousands of people

living on the wires of their memory


Nagasaki

A woman was selling ice cream at ground zero

People were buying ice cream in ground zero

People were licking ice cream in ground zero,

Rest House

 

It gets hot in the shadow of hell

You cannot survive it
for long

without going
for some kind of
refreshment

Rosewater ice cream in ground zero


The breeze comes from inside the earth

chilled spirits exhaling negative space

into the otherwise bastard barbarian

injunctions
for peace


please
see this

fatalistic enterprise
to the end

of  life    of the people
who

are, xx
or xxx years later, still

flying beyond
the magnetic field


The rosewater ice cream is perfect,
it could not be any more timely
like

walking
through layers
of  internal botanicals

Rest House

 

I stayed long in the shadow of the dead

only after I left,
was gone

to a place where the dead could be
seen   strolling

a tight circle,
preparing

for the phase of being dead that is
characterized by reappearance.

was there,
the shell of your egg

Rest House

 

Roses along the narrow canal.

No one sees they cannot be seen

on the inside

of a dungeon esque understanding of space


before it collapses

gravity takes all the people.

Rest House

 
A scattered peace
like nets

the old woman gathering rose-taste

to marry
to ice cream


All around us, the breeze
corpses
overlapping

to be welcomed
to be given

the refreshment
that might stun [them]

back into
existence.

Rest House

 
The woman in ground zero
lays down in the grass

looks up
into the trees

at the monochrome shapes
of astrological hospice

They’re not dead yet
she says


The trees look down
unapprovingly

Are there tiny balloons in the sky?
People preparing to leap through
the bottomless

brain
of their delicate wishes?


nor will they last
long enough


Every time I see you   you are
in the grass
or behind small glass

reaching into the freezer
toward a warm body