Put off guard.
Cycle of drinks making a blinking shroud of the brain.
Yo Yo Ma in gorgeous space outfit
Something there is awry in me,
work all undone.
When I die please scatter me in a friendly river
to the sea even though I am scared of it.
There is a blinking, agitating light,
don’t park there,
could send signals down to your clogged up heart
like an ash fountain
or a beautiful shadow
used as a dishcloth
and nailed to a stump.
Great sludge goddess
protect my sons from the drilling sounds
the lavishes of green water
James Grinwis is the author of two books of poetry and co-founding editor of Bateau Press. He lives in Northampton, MA.