Trees are a black foreground and the clouds are
a glowing white backdrop painted onto the light box sky
It is the first day of cool weather – the first fallish moment
I have placed my ass in New York for a year – what
have I received from this tower?
This glowing sky – this September – I have been given
a rotting flower – a pumpkin carved with Jesus
No – I have taken these things
Scooped out the insides and placed them on a table there
are knives and I am taking each apart and making a collage
I am using the blood of things to make alphabets
This A is bone marrow – the N a failed romance – what
am I doing here?
The sky is always like this in September – this weird calm
this Magritte sighing
I am waiting for fireflies to make comets – cicadas to sing elegies