our time is up

this belongs to my dead aunt fedora, she says, channeling her from beyond the green

a guest of the foredecks couldn’t salvage her nonchalance from a platoon of ambient debris

let’s call her dorothy march, let’s not, better not bother with her at all

we’re looking for an innkeepers wife who walks upon the mizzenmast with bells about her cankles in the blinding fog

or we’re not looking for anything at all, actually, just passing time until our time is up

we thought we’d alight on this page but now we sense our mistake

who would land here and stay here willingly — for its full of queer brocades

two possibilities from this point on:

1. mid-fifties housewives
2. continuum canoe conundrums

these aren’t really logical choices
who needs to be ruled by logic anyway?

What I’m Reading:

Even before the twenty-four-hour news cycle, Twitter storms, algorithmic trading, spreadsheets, the DDoS attack, Americans were getting “spread” in their daily lives; meanwhile, their politicians went on speaking slowly, slowly about values utterly disconnected from their policies.

— Ben Lerner / The Topeka School