Distribution Automatique

Sunday, November 30

from *Copper* by Mike County
Pressed Wafer 2003

The Thing Is

It's all personal now
the jade plant, the carpet, the
socks had since high school.
What alley, what street bears
no trace of stink? Where does

music leave no echo
the soul no paint?

There's no worry of bleeding
no bandage that can't cover the cut, just
a nag at the base of the neck, "How'd ya
get so far with so few books and bucks?"

A total equal to any, a
sum equal to none.

IT is like a bit of symphony magic,
IT is like hitting your head
on the wheel.
IT is always sudden, never

a surprise.


from Range Finder by David Perry
Adventures In Poetry


As soon as I write the call comes in
On impossibly close waves
The angle is also straight lines
Implying more or a mirror
Than a sidelong asymptote
Home can be a curve too
Appearances taken up in the air
With us against the world
Veering to meet upon the moment