Everything

The horse was just what I should
have devoted my life to

everything said aloud

to convince us

a well known gesture
ending
in a joke about astronauts

solos and duets and guaranties
misshapen pens the grand
army
floats in a pool

A knot. A sweater.

a bone folder
a location
where the rug was before
it caught fire

Everything is location

Where when
it was
I was
that way
in where
I was then
after

the large
scale drones
let loose
upon
any
every thing
yellow

—Kate Jaeger

EVERYTHING (10/2/08)

Or else finally moving down, it’s final
she said, we’re born into the diagram
moving down having installed ‘and’ next to ‘and’
and so far nothing: but then, a shin splint,
one sound, another sound, $2 for coffee,
$10 to the driver, $21 inc. tip for
haircut, had a critical blackout
had to wear that head all week and
just forgot to remove it, there was a war
going on and then a second war going
on in exactly the same place, there was
mainly a difference in which turtle
we chose to inflate, it wasn’t clever,
wasn’t cute, threw a digital
piano across the room, completed a task
and felt as though I were the one taking
the non-steroidal anti-inflammatory
with possible gastrointestinal side effects,
as I were the one flying off to Forest Lawn
with an almost-broken leg to speak
at the services for the dead actor in lieu
of his agoraphobic sister, as if
I were the upended craft table, as if
I were falling out of the building, “Mambo
#5” going by, as if were this clause
and this one, as if I were the organization
of rhythm, as if were the broken G
below middle C on the keyboard after it
went down, as if I were screaming
into the pillow, as if I were the synthesized
horn setion, had been checking
the same blogs hourly for a quick hit
of toxin, treating mental illness
by homeopathy, desiring a metronome,
a melodica, a laundry hamper, as if repetitive
stress could cause repetitive stress, given
the choice between leaving it in and leaving
it out just saying leave it – that’s enough,
the body’s tension running down the arm
into the hand that grips the umbrella.

—Franklin Bruno