Summer 2011 BOMB Issue

After Last Night’s Drinking

After last night’s drinking,
thoughts refuse to puncture
layers of misremembrance.
Patternless patterns—

all that’s fallen with weather—
dissociate in another gust. There
a child’s chalked hieroglyphs
blend, as if to mimic

this ache around my eyes. A bird,
a blur on the horizon, takes the shape
of steam lifting from a turd
where gravel meets grass,

while the noon siren sounds its vowel.



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Traveling Sunspots