162
there is a 45 minute line through my memory
pulling back the times i bull-armed the delicacies
put them in their boxes & coffined them to sea
the flood to my brain is pumping lethe
& i don’t recall the falls of the birds from their perches
dragged by a horse named demented deep down into the ditches
my blood brother’s name? —it’s intimacy
we may go years & years & years
then one day it will be bones i tell you
––––––––––––—bones
but i suppose i am standing in this 45 minute line
in front of the anatomic horizon—catch it through the window
as the shadows drag slowly past everything along the criterion
ham after ham after ham i tell you
as if repetition were the latest deleterious convention
pulled by the handle—the little delicate moppet
there is a 45 minute line fading at the entry
i will get to the cracks i got to the radio i’m getting pneumatic & distant
now i have to hack at the ice & here
––––––––––––––––––––—right here becomes tricky
–
–
Scott Jacobs Jr. is a bricklayer and founder of YesNo Press.
Incessant Pipe 