Column

 

Column

in the transistor that
beckons the mouse out the
sentence in rags
a wooden box
tries to call him and imply

cocoa spots
a few maple trunks
razors for whiskey

a bridge

an abandoned smell
an abbey might be
only a hair, bottles and a few

pawns

a sentence lightens
needless matchboxes
an old spring
thunders long-mute
mattress questions

Take the years
and leave them a shoelace
a brush of paper is enough. Jump

midway at the last sentence under witch hazel
around a sun of barren alleys and briefly orphaned handkerchiefs
a reckless body of water. Jump

from my life again.
Debris of meaning the girl
in a fixed ring within reach
leans to the ugly gloves
known all along

pale easy with their graceless paneled talking
husky ears frightened you owned a handsome man
who been his doctor