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Three Poems


I forgot it is going to snow

I suppose I try saving something

a squirrel rubs his face
in the bark

hearing is only part of the dreams that we’re going to achieve

the one with our eyes open

now you have this tree and you’re disappearing

subjectivity based on difference among humans and animals

everything opens because of you


All of the timing is over

keys on
the dresser

going home in
the day

full of cares

how a bell is like or
different from a face

of cares

other things

who ran into the flowers

afterwards I stood at the window for
a while and wanted
to do something

one never really 
gets this far

what color are they and do
they shift with wings

I see myself with 
my eyes closed

pushing in the chair

the angel in the sun
takes me for given


needles in all of the water
and lark’s sleeve
how everything becomes the same underwater an icon
on a bill a snail a gun a tile
gills a turn a life a fingernail a
sweater a dog out of water the pursed eyes the
dog the unselfishness the moss the down the nothing
the reason you are and the hair on
your head the knots of eyes the how
I throw a rock in and it changes it

changes the mud then it turns around you

whose conscience will be bothered by it


at this point
the rain falling across the bird
ethical sadness
doing tactility
in that the whole thing is
a hill in my mouth
and the serrating feathers
only after you’ve become the most active thing
you’ve ever been
once someone starts laughing he doesn’t stop

it’s not going to be through the eyes


Are animals an abstraction
the angel that appears and
goes away the remainder

As far as information about my room
goes it is
strange to hear something you do not

between a bell and a face

from the top of the flight of the

if I want to see both lake and forest
I have to exist

I open the window barely
where are they
the top of the tree

As long as you keep your end 


The Wall

When a fisherman wants

to head


stays close to the stone

pier—to the beginning

the thin event


From beneath your abandon-
ment: I touch the wall


The wall—bare and white is what you
see about it

What do you see about me


If you wait with the robin in the almost-
grass: it will sing

Accept its version—almost red


You abandon your body in this whole and the stems
come from beneath

My walls are so bare and white
I touch them

am against them my palms—


No we have been
living this whole time

Nobody trusts the ambulance anymore

The sound of the emergency like a chair
dragged across the floor


For two months now I have not felt right
in the worlds. This morning I woke and
put my knees down on the billowing
floor. This is now the height of being

I check for her on the small of my knees. No
of course one does not find it


Moon: what the earth does not know
Light: what the earth does not know
Light: what the moon does not know
Moon: the grasses! 

I know you’re already there


I can’t get her
smell off me. I thrust my shoulder this way
this way


When I sally out for a stroll: 

Cornucopia-spray, haltingly, 

Sail that kills

My first spring on earth


The robin is waiting on the ground
with us

The trees are not to be touched

The thin event

that need be done far away

is done

The weight of the water

The weight of the water
when outside it

For over twenty-four hours
a man has been asleep along the river

You must leave him behind you

The grass leaves you behind as you step onto it

leaves you behind 


The Ends

war the absence of speech occurs within the site of speech green fields,
under the nettle the strawberry, winders 
             within the site what was throstle song, the 
future is tied back with a ribbon, 
the sea is a single flag, 
with her hand she is history she
sews stars under stars on her hand,
             the shore the table in flames, 
she cuts her hair, that burns, she cuts
the ribbon in her hair

Eric Linsker coedits The Claudius App with Jeff Nagy.