Mouth Made Out of Trees
The mouth of the Russian River aslip at Jenner
lips and leaves a mouth of shells and sea lions
colors your lips and leaves them soft among the grapes
your lips and leaves residual highway driving.
The tree near the canyon mouth the canyon
mouth near the oak trees in the snow
the snow your mouth a new environment mouth
inhalation rapid breathing environmental plantsign.
How many different trees and bushes do you see?
How many shocks domesticated, feral or stray?
At the rear of the property the incentive to cut
a good many trees a worm possesses entirely in its mouth.
Your mouth is its own environment a canyon
with trees and snow a felt mouth unembroidered
coal a paintbrush of dark wood the instrument
of the mouth wind blown through the mouth of trees.
A mouth of the miracle rubber.
Lips that have smiled are as limitless as leaves.
In half-asleep love
I hush the peaches
the darkened kitchen
eerily clean in the
stainless gleam of the
fridge and stove
redoubling the bounce.
The cat bootlegs some
chow bleating like
some other animal,
ripping at the carpet
with an alien noise.
He’s a shroud of a pet.
Earlier we barhopped,
avoided the jiffy algebras
of shifting seats at tables
by simply leaving.
A door functions both ways.
Open for water.
Open for air.
Even a Zoo
The dawn arrived and the plums fell.
We were both naïve and bold.
Down it dropped into fields of saffron.
Like flakes in winter triumph
in the face of shine on snow
the sand conditions things
for change or burial.
Who knows? The camels of this caravan
might expand into cheap memories
in the national language.
But there is more to me than this.
183,000 pampered miles more
and in great condition.
Blue drunk on applejacked burst
bulbs the buzzed of lower lawns mown
down the gullet with a POD glossy cover
galley of thighs ricochets impromptu
critique with sexy no coverup fleshy
bareness! it's spring in Brooklyn
and we're all poets everybody
I am you are babies dogs
their walkers and nannies the mailman
the barber whole pack of teen bangers
the dude going Dirty Fruit! Dirty Fruit!
something it took me years
to learn suddenly clear:
poems at no charge here