Four Poems

From The Fry, which will be published in April by Winter Editions

A Short History of Who Wants What

So you eat off these plates, most nights, for years.

You got them at Ikea, or they appeared in your cabinet, inherited from one
roommate or another, and each day you spoon food onto and off of these plates,
wash them, dry them, put them away.

One day you figure out you can take one, press on its circumference, gather your
strength and just ball it back up into clay.

And then what?

What do you do with the clay?

Hurl it at someone, laughing lightly like it’s a snowball and you’re a fun
mischievous person, and winter’s everywhere and the stars are flickering.

But it’s not winter and you’re not light.

You throw your ball the way you practiced, you turn your back before it lands.

Get Them Out of Here

We should want gods
Curious more of themselves

Ones who take back the onus
And leave us be in our lack

Because maybe the soul is the invader
A trespassing, wasteful thing

Happy to overtalk people
Who only ever want to seem

Like they’re giving it their all
Counter perceptions of aloofness

While holding
Their richest parts in a place

None of these gods
Get near enough to cheapen

What Is to Be Done?

You will learn what’s done
and you will do it.

Or you will aim to.

Or you will regret
what you’ve done

also regret the things
you should have done

but didn’t do, as well the memories

you might have made
within the love

you should have felt—
“the doorknob off a door and put it back on backwards softly.”

Or do nothing all day
to someone’s print-out

of a banner ad
for shower steamers.

Neighbor’s dog, will it ever stop barking?!

For revenge, record the barks
play them back on speakers

anytime the real-life
barking stops.

(To the world
as noun

what could you
possibly have

to add?)

Watch this video of a river.

Or don’t.

I’m not comfortable telling anyone what to do.

You will learn what’s done
and you will do it.

It will withdraw from you
whether you accomplish it or not.

The Right Tool for the Job

“yeah I’ve never been able to keep a secret I have a lack of
deceptive experience . . . I can only keep up with a conspiracy
theory if I’m also conspiring in my everyday life . . . like if I take
my dog off leash in the park against the rules, but in collusion with
the other owners with whom I stand and trade raw dog food recipes
. . . dangle a knotted rope at my dog then throw it . . . watch as my
dog eats from the plates of picnickers . . . sniffs at the diaper of a
baby . . . knocks the baby over with its nose . . . and I see this and
say to my friends, ‘hang on a moment—it involves raw beef,
toasted oats, and young apple—but hang on, I’ve got to handle
this’ . . . and I yell my dog’s name loud for show . . . as the mother
of the knocked-over baby who is mostly consumed with
comforting the baby, also turns to ravage me—me! innocent dog
owner—with a lot of sharp words you have to laugh at in the
mouth of a mother . . . and you have to say ‘calm down, lady’ . . .
because who else will say it? . . . ‘calm down, lady, the baby’s
fine’ . . . and you shouldn’t have a baby in this park anyway . . .
I’m going to call the cops about your baby . . . cops love recipes
with spirulina and creatine . . . and nootropics for more powerful
and inquisitive dogs . . . cops are on the side of animals . . . babies
are afraid to take sides . . . and fear is what’s wrong with this world
. . . imagine letting anyone’s curiosity knock you over . . . and
being offended by that? . . . how about you get a more stable baby .
. . maybe learn a little about the obliques . . . core is important . . .
you’ve got to believe in the core if you’re going to do anything
about life . . . obliques help you turn sideways if you have to . . .
but mainly they keep everything straight . . . straight is the best . . .
dogs that eat industrial dog food are clowns . . . I’m shutting this
down soon . . . if you’re having any trouble with your computer
call me . . . if any part of your setup bothers you I can take a look”