the moment Nietzsche got ahold of Aphrodite a thousand swords fell from the sky
What the fuck
The chosen language and cadence of the work hefts off the usual pomp of poetry, without leaving any of the poetics behind.
Until it was stenciled by snow at midnight,
I hadn’t noticed the statue on Washington street.
Oh, look. A June bug is trapped
in the screen door. Buzz saw scent.
Plastic and old dust. In the yard
a laid-back mourning dove coos.
The downpouring stops.
Noising geese take off north from the marine-blue flats
just beyond the fire pits
And the world
is on the other side
of a door
that is also
where fog appears
like a breath