Thursday, November 17

I Could Say “Elves” To Him But It’s Not Elves Exactly

This range was composed on 10/30 and 10/31 after my visit to Zuccotti Park on 10/18. It was first read at Zinc Bar on 11/6. The “Jake” that this range addresses is Jacob Bromberg, a contributing editor to The White Review, who was kind enough to solicit me for work over the summer. It’s a thank you not only to him but to many, many others. The title is taken from Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall,” a poem that addresses, in part, the necessity and ridiculousness of tradition.


I Could Say “Elves” To Him But It’s Not Elves Exactly

Jake—maybe ya know but have no

          idea what we do over here. Some

                    some idea. You know Violi?

          Imagination magnificent he founder

First Community College du Loup.

          You’ll admit its pyramid & indigo bulge

                    apart from the island proper.

          A topnotch twirler tho know

his baton doubled as laser blade ’cause of

          copyright restrictions. Limitations! Borders

                    artificial. Wide the gap in our Custerdome

          “bodacious cowboys” “such as your friend”

“will never be welcome here” dear cousin I can’t do

          party. Find the hotspot I plotz. No lingo

                    mi gringo conmigo y su mujeres.

          Soy El Hombre Mayor.

Ellas saben lo que estoy hablando. Ante up.

          Six months from now & six months from

                    now then the beginning of the begin.

          Stipe’s no farmer. Buck’ll boogie. Mills’ll

quote 40,000 miles more to Athens.

          My sonnet “Anti-Horse” addresses that creature

                    as symbol of Sneakypantsism. In short

          some empire. Some old cold. Some

new lozenge. Every step of the way.

          Winter Sonoma. Past the Mississippi

                    you can’t not hardly find

          my probable cause. My flaws

show whole. My laws tire of Number.

          Tried to escape but the gangsters here

                    well you know Scoresese.

          Late October is my favorite.

Lead up too. Skyfire. Periwinkle

          sucks limbtips but this year the snow.

                    White mountain ground creeps column

          douse flame. Zuccotti is Glastonbury.

Oakland’s Atlanta is Denver.

          Tahrir & Neda. Saadhi Whitman. Same

                    swamps absorbs binds the universe.

          Still the individual. Break out go forth

dig in undone get down

          come around. Qui-Gon Jinn. My upper lip

                    is covered I know you have no idea

          what we do here.

I’m surprised myself sometimes

          when I look up

                    see exactly what it is.