Reading Anne Carson
by Dan Raphael
“A place came there and crashed” -Anne Carson
when water is a mirror
the sur of face, south of a mouth
why east when never
if a body the top layer
the roof of a sphere
after i’m halfway in
the unreflected enter
a solution a mixture
layering what won’t react
i know your shoes wont fit me
a shirt becomes shelter
panting pantless painting pints
when the fifth fury arrives the car accelerates
never next a door
relative comfort
slower when happy
skew screw rue
set a side
reserve until melting, getting no softer
i will leak soon unless tended
10 minutes of a dozen louie armstrongs
looking through a glass of water a stable tumbler
silent chants moving on their own
the puppy found herself
a square inch of beef pounded and pressed
put the yolk back
to undig to undiscover
if i don’t destroy it could return
inciting another finger
a sprouting splinter, a nail pointing home
in the mine a vein
here’s the city’s pancreas
removing color makes room for more of us
sleep peels, lips spill, still lit
blue enabled, elder tolerant
a doorway this low is not meant for me
the most honest window is empty, glass is a tax
breaking without tools
a cup of coffee every hour, 8 to 8
a night without fire
didn’t think all of us would show, let alone fit inside
one door, one very long wall
i stayed home, unable to differentiate horizontal from vertical
sealed by a ceiling
kept kempt
amplifying our stability with decibels and dust
silent appetite mere roar
a light to grow clothes
aroma amore moral leer
this fence is my angel
ceptualizing alone
too complete to continue
where the wind wound when
as if a nest
reaching through the more solid
each tree a scroll
the wallpaper got darker each year
a blindfold with thousands of pin holes
constellated mass
a mission of sub, a missive of per
each of my pinkies replaced with a thumb
never just one hat
a half inch anklet of thick space
what emits from my palm sinks & stays
to find the sun i lay on my back between chairs
cotton holding its breath to remember
swelling or pulsing, about to release
grass making wind
of all i survey
mined denim
tired of trying on eyes i settled for imperfect
where walls peel like mozzarella sticks
what this tree has instead of bark
my hands hungrier than my stomach
keyboard dispensing vitamins
no periods no inhalation
immobilizing the freeway did not silence it
Dan Raphael celebrates the life of nature in a juicy service
of abstract expression.