beside me is beside me is:

Beside me is beside me is:

An oblong canoe and beside it
a walking man’s trousers, bright blue.

On the diamond of a toad’s back
is it sizzling in a pan of oil—

but smoother torn slightly at the edge;

my parents first house in Hanover,
Massachusetts.

A pigeon sheds its feathers,
brown as dirt is brown;

it lives on a cigarette burn,
a porcelain cow for pouring creamer,

& jumping back— it is not fur.

Covered with small holes & filled with hair,
(a white line through the center of me)

I am Drums, The James Library & Up the Staircase;
a shoe made for the left foot,

I have worn on the right.

A pilgrimage of ants crossing the gravel walkway,
empties itself into a snail shell:

And here is the shag rug, smelling of mold,
the brim of a gentleman’s hat as it curtsies,

& spoons at her ice cream
alone on the stone of a fountain, a penny drop, dropping:

Here is myself as a child or a once-was.
A man who was once, Once-Was

My Great Great Great Grandfather
riding by me on a motorcycle.

Who is bigger than this house?


He is smoking his pipe.

He is bigger than this house smoking
a cigar outside the pastry shop.

(& drunk around noon)
(& wrinkling the newspaper)

He cannot understand, (his now being a horse)

How business day floats
down the sheets

(not made of bricks, not made of anything)

more than this old blue cow
in the middle of my plains, chewing silent

straight through
the white cud, a feather cap

line center.