Daniel Scott Parker

from CTRL+ ALT + DELETE

for years the farmer never

the weather is full of telephones all ringing at once

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkka kind of crazy rug burn

with the xanthous corn and a whole lot of tangled

there are so many beans there are beans everywhere

well kept and cared for honest to god work

*

dew drops clung at sidewalks meant to an odd-angled lean

pale morning light unfurled over the near invisible

forms of window sills and bolt holes untying the darkness last to

the palming shoots addressing light’s peculiar

his woody fingers curled hardly at the fibers

a rustle flinched among the milklight

that’s when he had to

he knew he had to

a whinny and a wetly gasp

*

it was too attached to me

darling

i’ve told you this more than seventeen times

just go, kansas

*

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Orpheus:

*

something nailscratched in the dirt

to make his exit first

sunlight draining from the day

to shine the talcum moon

there were so many teeth they were like chainsaws

have you ever seen anything so perfect

it took a hundred years for this one

nobody knew there was boy inside there

Jesse Mack

from The Blue Rooms

+

On good days my past likes to go for walks

among the red hedges she sips dew

from the petals & when her lips get red

I laugh her hair laughs with me we discuss

furniture glimpsed through windows & often

we seem to agree but holes on occasion

appear in wooden dining room tables

& when a lead weight gets dropped through a hole

it sinks & only I see it sinks

into a blue room where I remember kissing

Erin the sheets grew nervous in our hands

& it feels like I lean into her although I am not

leaning now it’s as if she is holding some money

out to me saying take this & I have to

+

When I came upon this tall white building I knew

each of its rooms was a part of my past

& I was a white boat grazing lightly

the water but when I rest my eyes upon

the water three parting geese deride

some courtesy extended by blueness

to remain as simple as a matchbook emptied of

matches or the way one scrape along the pavement

ties me to a mainsail draped around a fawn

the grasses chewed & permanent but like a rig

unroped from a guardrail I proceed through the blue

fog with no wish but pinching Erin’s first

feather between two fingers as often as I wish

one year could careen laughing into the next

...