Rabbit Goes Courting
It is a shameful thing we are celebrating.
the beast from childhood, nuzzling
Up and down the boulevards, looking for the willow / winnow
Skin shaved down to its elemental,
a sharded tesla on full pornographic display
Godiva on a bicycle. A necklace of shells. I mean skulls.
I mean gems.
A biscuit and an egg. Cat calls and the unwelt, deafening. I mean
geraniums. I mean mother.
In the window, Earl Grey’s bastard daughter licks the spoon. Peaks.
Kiss from the monkey bars, a beard in jeopardy
all the hair is pubic and all the mouths are
Don’t eat don’t sleep. Wait for a cheap imitation sure to come
waltzing. Today you are its bride again / hello
they have monstrosities, I am sure of
milky plume around the ice. I am sure
She changes one dress for another dress.
a cloud of milky girl above the crowd. Everyone is waving / hello
hello / what happens next
What does geranium mean anymore A mother and the girl of her,
warrior of the follicular, the strategic
hair drape the genital flush
they feed the horse a bucket of milk and blood, chilled apples,
tied to a second body
You could be, for all appearances, healing. Or growing.
It is good and right to swallow this whole. Mommy in the bleachers, waving
your wedding dress.
By the Hammer of Rabbit
The action is a fist.
The salient point with mothers are their breasts
Suppuration and a clean lock,
glassy. A mass of cardinals as protective dome.
The thesis is their rolls of stomach
insomnolence a mother a moonscientist,
Creative caution can be a hermeneutic cupola
and flakes of skull
What breaks down breaks down
A Rabbit and the fist of her, the shreds of clouds that line the nest
in mind condition
The animal soul which senses and perceives
The fist is fraught with danger but not surprise.
Sometimes tomatoes like rice at weddings.
Sometimes a different red object.
Sometimes a running leap.
Sometimes a card. A second dimension.
What breaks down breaks down
in the corner of a kissable public
for the better part of the masculine rain
The action is a single cardinal inside a closed fist.
The insolence of a bird
The salient point about the moon is her use
The confusing participation
Rabbit, First Trimester
A tremor at the base, and then a flourish of turmeric.
Something that was supposed to happen
but didn’t happen,
she can’t remember
reminding her of something she was supposed to do. Before this
son of a surrogate (Starlings darted.)
I am having a problem which may be biological. Or is it by faith alone?
Are you my querent?
Do we walk now?
If your hand hurts after five years you can stop. If the flesh puckers and begs you can.
Stop. (As long as there were parties. With friends.)
(As long as she parked his car close to the curb.)
find me legs that don’t skitter, say colt
Adolescent fur. The proportions of “in between.” Of “neither.” Favorite color
the motion of birds.
He failed to ask particular questions
as long as he could hit the high notes. As long as no decomposing color.
If only it had happened. Then,
songbirds and sirens. A window with a common animal.
Or a gap between her thighs,
or the dirt packed there,
or the mulch soaking in bowls overnight. She can’t remember a time before horses
just beyond her vision.
She wants to remember a Rabbit and the winch of her, the way
to ratchet sky high. Triple protection. You signed it dotted line. Now notice
the weight when you wave / hello.
They are going to stare, a parade. Hello. Some proof
fluttering from the window. Some leviathan, losing altitude. Up
inside all that thrumming purr.
To Raise a Rabbit in the Suburbs
If you can find a moment that won’t stretch the length of
a rattle within the ultra. A memory, or whatever.
(a thicket of beard)
When you sit in the corner of, waiting the duration of,
looking for the center of
privatization of space. A book spine a mansard roof, the chapel in which
the sparrows nest
Beards come from soil. Or
are they soiled? Whatever.
This is how you know they are good
The private parts of a Rabbit
when the period escapes the intention
sutured up visions, not an intention
A Rabbit and the parts of her,
the art of kissing broken down
into manageable lessons
the obvious leap at the end of a Rabbit
she hasn’t got a single leg to stand on
the silence cannot extend cannot lengthen into what she meant to not say to not
do in the corner a beard slowly shedding hair
a bearded beauty queen slowly a repository shedding
of scent, and nothing more.
A Rabbit not a symbol
the kissable public
the masculine rain
a suggestion would have to be more than a houseplant, wouldn’t it?
This is observation delaying the critical.
This is pageantry I mean a neighborhood
(You know what I mean)
At the end of a Rabbit