REAL ESTATE

             The land is steaming.  An agent drives a stake in.  The feeling, ancient age on its knees.  In spruce and oak a last gasp, a mating of weights and measures.  Spirit level says yes to hammer, to fields skeletal with erection.  The ribs wait in warm rain.  Around a house, a bigger house.  Hands swarm over the earth, making place, room by room, tomb by tomb.

PURE WORD
for RK

            Halve an orange. Inside, dynamite.  Outside, white paper.  There is decoration in the earth, eaten at edges, whole whales of physics and traffic.  To deliver, babies of softest vowel. Sail loft, a hammock of cloud, condor, the world river of selfless green, glass hill, planet of hands, and always Florida. Butter, gears, weeds, speech.

            Then clotted potential, a wing torn: why it walks where it is going, the layers of cur on the bias, a cost of fur, cold spine. So plant a berry, the heart book.  Bury.  And.  Now, unsound.  Hear no more the time, sage, rosemary.

PUNCH AND JUDY

             Objects on the sill, white like the sill.  The curtain is white.  Behind, bottle green outside the window.  A tall cup broad at the top, narrowing down.  A low wide plastic box.  The mug steaming.  The box half open, unable to close, broken.  The leaves trembling.

            This is where you come in.