three sonnets

after Ted Berrigan

ii.

sunday morning all streets crossed out
in mowed lawns a line of sunlight
razored into the armoire. hello.
the neighborhood looked different
after it was gone. a mess of capsules
the thistle reaches through. hello.
the sky looked better after the derailment.
cherry blossoms all along my shoulder
nodded in an ouroboric haze.
as i wrote all our pronouns
the shower ran. the can of krylon
an information bomb across the dealer's face.
an ashtray coughed a scree of marbles
across the morning's bent fender

iii.

malaised all day in the prefallen world.
logs rolled up in the barge's mouth indicated
an unusual preponderance of things
he murmured, taking a swig from his giant watch.
pool of algae a bruise of sunlight
in a tarp over my mattress tadpoles filling
the artificial lake by the empty housing project.
pool of sunlight a bruise all down the boulevard
where the rope tied the wrist. hello.
stayed past 3 writing the book of the dead
in the penny arcade.
peculiar behaviors: unspecified
1:07 am: 3 pills: unspecified
luna moth on the diagnostic screening: unspecified

v.

after meeting in the park
i decided you looked realer in the pictures.
tocoma's seat a prion folding
into me windshield a breath's membrane.
took all the pills and still felt the information
course through me. a convulsion
of f-16s over willoughby bay
lifted the fog hem of a skirt
the gunner stares blankly through.
how bright the boulevard
after the war. we sprinkled our children
with wedding rice and headed to the coast.
the sunset a rim of fluorinated vapors
the dead stare blankly through.