All night

you add knowledge to the marsh

     and lavish the wrist with coats

to protect against loose polarity

 

          I rush along the pathway coated with retractions

Give me the brisk attainment—

 

you mean Brisk, the

   Lipton Iced Tea?

 

                        Never doubt

as praise the

     signal contortion

         moving potted plants

 

to melt the bonds

  the defining feature of a spectrum

                   I beckon the founder

 

            the desert is huge

                       argyle patterns on moss

 

There has to be more to this turf than reversals

 

All night

          the idea of my severe and resilient image

      flickers on a few dark windows

 

The first task is to exit the landscape

caught

wiping down a fridge—