DRECK

ALICE YOBBY

FOUR SONNETS

THE AMERICAN PARKS

smacked by hot shit
the weather impressions me
it does us all
eye hit dart
legs dogs present
histories, sitting, orogenic
molds language
files
we, all seeing, mull the operative word. spilt
instructions pretending
to not to not not to
gluttony. it's all come down
nurses, the rest say

SONNET AFTER A POEM IN THE SKY

china tossed in mausaleums
the windows of insects as reflective
if trees grow like fungal knives,
a stranger knocking curtained doors
the poet in any room is a smuggler.
if museums, then, gleaned from the lack
of hellos and tell me more. yesterday,
if yesterday was a later showing
some made still their cross red legs
if we forgot to riot without applause
for even percs aping perfect blood
if the root rot rubs out hands
bringing their food to our mouths
if we don't say no. or if we do

SONNET

millisecond transcend to hours
lightning slow as volcano
will you erase that look on your face?
traitors gleaners and forage
masc park sitters substitute nannies
salaried guitar-work feminine broad
bridge you can stride across on
one two twelve forty-four there's a knock
salvation in the well of serrated
soda cans —— at my door
granted weightlessness is a blessing
i would like to return it to the major chain
the bombs wrapping terra
a corset tugged tight

SONNET

You follow the lovely cut angel starving
finally after hours of standing offered a seat
start your weed dance, each step deeper and more paranoid
morning sunday the angel perished.
monday, the phone. a significant and important decision, you
you don't know why. because all the static
and so little changing even loving other people
left by god mostly to the killed
the sleeping and cross minds, etc, fog killing birds and calling to "dance!
punish!" rocking lifeless eyes, hung, genitalia assorted and secret,
waiting to stand, woke up without chairs, the ant hills.
all the magic left to their secular and our weak
why. Your thumb is crushed to watch them sweep
our view

Alice Yobby