BIZARRE STATUE

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Driving (2026)

You don’t recognize this highway 
You pass the outline of unfamiliar hills
The radio has gone silent
You’ve never heard of the cities on the sign 
You brought the wrong map
The dashboard light flickers out 
Your watch has stopped 
Ice forms on the windshield

From Two Songs About Fire (2026)

The Fire Pit

I smelled the sea
I faced the fire pit
My hand brushed the sand
I sucked on my cigarette
When I opened my eyelids
The ceiling was turning
And my bed was aflame

I lost my good looks
I lost my belongings
My breath would be labored
From then on
I stood at the shelter
And walked through the door
Of my new life

	*	*	*

You’re beneath the Bay
The rails shake
The wind’s in the tunnel
My eyelids close
You leave the train
I sweep the platform
You look at me
I stroke my scarred cheek

You turn away
I gaze your direction 
Look at my face
See me as your mirror 
I’m sweeping the platform
Look my direction
My eyes are your eyes
Our common lungs are inhaling
This dark, heavy air

	*	*	*

The naked sunbathers. The sweat in my hair. 
The scraping train on the rails.
The fighting dogs. My tightening eyelids.
My hands on my ears.
 
The grassy hill. The sound of the shouting.
A flock of parrots in a cloudless sky.
I am alone. I am alone. I am alone. I am alone.

The Rout

The Tricolor fell
The prisoners kneeled 
I turned to the trees 
And fled the field
I grip the leaves
I close my eyes
And the world goes away 

A howl resounds
The leaves of the lindens
Dry branches
On the forest floor
Through a broken door
Starlight in the rafters
The past is gone

	*	*	*

I step in the shadow
The window shatters
My knuckles bleed

I take a coat 
A decanter calls me
I run to the trees

The branches are bare
My hands are shaking
The sound of the brook
Its thin ice is breaking
The dim crescent moon
In the swarming stars

Snowflakes drift
My throat burns
I slide into sleep

	*	*	*

Insects abound
The warming silence
Rising shoots breathe
Vivid memories of violence
The afternoon passes
A wind begins
The hillside sways

My hands push against the grass
Dim faces in the coming clouds
Looking through the new leaves
Droplets fall without sound

	*	*	*

Gulls above the Frioul
I float on water
Docks in the distance
A seal passes below
The Old Port fades 
Rising steam hides the sea
My eyelids open
Unnatural heat surrounds me

The taste of metal
Orange light on the cabin wall
Embers in the window
Flickering shadows fall
The burning door opens
Its ribs are rising 
Its eyes intelligent 
Flames engulf the trees behind

The smoking muskets 
The scent of fodder
The ongoing fusillade
Its eyes are on me
Its forelegs shaking
It appears to howl in silence
Flames overwhelm the sky
It appears to recognize me 

From The Polish Embassy/The Cane Field (2020)

The Polish Embassy

My hand held the railing
I fingered the film.
I paused by the blue flowers
In the icy vestibule.
I attended the scent of the sewer
Snow fell in the streetlight
A goshawk looked me straight in the eye
Then flew over the Spree

	*	*	*

I knelt by the Embassy fence
He seemed asleep on the sidewalk
But ice formed on his moustache
And his eyes remained open
I lifted the flask from his fingers
I finished it for him
A streetcar’s sound crept closer
And I darted away

	*	*	*

I slip on the steps
To the S-Bahn descending at Friedrich Street
I keep with the crowd
While I’m wiping away the bleeding
I give you the film
Our handshake enveloping secretly
Before you can leave
I attempt to speak discreetly

“If it's true that they're keeping me
Another year behind the Wall
I'm going to need that pistol you promised
So give it to me. Give it to me.
Give it to me. Give it to me.”

The Cane Field

I drop my machete
I kneel in the mud
I listen to the wind
Shake the cane and move on
I tongue my broken tooth
I rub my malformed hand
A swift sails from the mountain
Toward the docks and across the bay
It flees these Antilles
Across the water to Venezuela
Along the coastline to Bahia
Across the water to the Cape Verdes
Up the river along the Casamance

	*	*	*

The dim of the new moon
The scent of the whale oil
The pair of lanterns in my good hand
The shattering glass
The smoke in the rollers
The flying flames on the sails
A spotted piglet behind me
The burning curing house
The falling walls of the distillery
Our fleet footsteps
The crying livestock
The fading field in the distance

	*	*	*

I set the snare
I lay down the manioc
A squeal in the shade of the kapoks
Black spots on the hog
I stroke my white beard
I’ll sleep hungry tonight