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13thWR
LATE AUGUST
" When making an axe handle.."
Snyder
I.
I phoned to thank him
For my surprise
I picked my ear, the ear,
Until it bled
He commented that I was
Dehydrated,
And why is the physical world
So revolutionary
Why the virtual so flat,
Why does every fold
Of skin matter.
II
She told me
That she and my lover
Had gone together to Guadelajara.
Indoors it was, she said
And also to la Paz
La Paz the beach
Outdoors
How come I didn't even guess.
III
What is he reading
Sitting there in the white hood
And unshaven
Cheek
Grey blue jacket, dark blue
Pants
He turns the page and will not
Acknowledge me.
IV
The old woman, chinese,
And her daughter
Perambulate
My friend glances up
His intensity
A well lighted place
For looks.
V
The pigeons prance
Still
Stiff legged even as the short
Woman
In the red shorts sings
Locks arms
With the tall man
The flag flaps.
VI
Grieving in the city
Time
Is measured by the return
Of the runner,
What are you reading
Young man :
I dont want to talk,
My friend:
Leave me
To my Alchemy.
VII
Interesting the state of mind
Why tomorrow I will buy another wedding ring
Re-consecrate
Myself to the woman I love
Out of nowhere
Where the therapist cajoles
And realizations
Grow on trees.
.VIII
The skin on my shins
Is hairless now
Slowly hairless now
This part of me
That is now used up,
What have I ever learned
But the proper use
Of skin.
IX
I know
How it feels to lick those window
Frames in the dark
How to find a need
And fill it
The beautiful body
That we walk upon
The green mustard stings
Late August.
- William Holbrook