got pushed down into a ringing in my ear
ringing that may be listened to
all I can tell you is my own experience
and don’t want to get sideways with that power
there’s no rain here
light’s the same
have you ever been in an alley like that
compost and broken basketball hoop
punk gloom of after-party that breaks up at dawn
when the older boy sets a recliner on fire
breakfast comes differently after that
then children
her pulse beats under black concert T
stereo and gin on the other side
they find me in the barn half-asleep
where alley turns from road
loft hay bundled and forked becomes dust
attic curates a chain on a nail
aerial twitches through residual boards
I’m a hundred years from plough
that quartered here
dusky in the rafters: a sparrow
someone’s always nearby