Ron Silliman
from Zyxt

Fra il dire et fare
che il mezzo delle Mare
— Mario Savio

For Lyn & Leslie

                          The hand without its palm would be nothing
                          Tooth’s roots understood as its fingers clawing into the jaw, soft calcium shale
                          The eye does not blink but rather this lid forms an architecture
                          Involuntary discourse

                          How can a painter sketch that blue, this grey, veined with the limbs of a thousand bare
trees (ulcerated cherry) when I can’t remember even to include every word?
                          Hush of the furnace, hum of the computer, the soft ratcheting of a small analog clock

                          The only shadow cast by the moon
                          A time of simple genocide (as if anything were simple
                          Returning from the war to find his old job filled by a young man with children – if they’re
alive today, they would be eighty – he simply found another, holding it for over four decades, never again to
seek employment

                          Thus tea burns off the roof of your mouth
                          Senators in single file like school children, each signing the book acknowledging his or her
oath as a juror in the forthcoming trial of the president, each handed a souvenir pen
                          Look out the window to see if it’s snowed
                          Or your weight in the bed next to me

                          Neuroptera in flight, listening to children negotiate which game to play, domed theater,
lost along the Schuylkill (which only Philadelphians know how to pronounce
                          Goat milk pie
                          But the hazelnut breading for the trout later killed me, an abrasive to the intestines, raw
                          Rare, roar

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