The Brooklyn Rail

pink chants

1.
buster keep that
winkle
       pink
light against dark leaves slipping
    you can
still smell
smell
smell smell smell smell
   smell smell smell
    smell smell
smell smell
          smell smell smell
smell smell
       smell smell smell smell smell smell smell smell smell
    smell smell
smell smell smell smell smell smell
smell
smell smell smell smell smell
    smell smell
    smell soil and
        and other things here buster keep that winkle
pink
   feels like, it’s like, it’s like,
it’s like, it’s
it’s
like aging.

nobody gonna
          be
anything
          well,
so
  the chant goes.

2.
gonna forget what this
heat feels like, it’s like
  aging. you can
still smell soil and other things in the air, and
   bugs nabbing you.
pink light against dark
    leaves slipping
away.

3.
still hot. pink sky;
incinerator, or compost.
        fatigue beyond joints.
  curve of night
light flailing buster keep that winkle
    pink
feelings sink

4.
willow trees are waterfalls today
those flowery wisps just the thing here at the curve of night.

grammatica

just need to let myself feel sad.
grammar and glamour grammatica
reminiscence, poetic borrowing
dictionary definition of aging.
Sunday the deadline of restoration.
prissy little lines like mozarella sticks, individually wrapped.