xxy, again, on week 2 of the 2011-2012 nfl season

Like blood splatter
__an expensive pattern
__on paddle eternal, invisible grain

Whack
Whomp
Her voice looms against the pounding
__train, deafening wifi connection
__four bars of uninterrupted violence

Plunk
Pop
Carve the rolling sky, quick cocaine clouds
__from the teeth of the vibrating afternoon
__like too tight strings
__of a violin

Then she is gone, voice vanishing
despite intentions worse
for imagination,

The symphony tunes, unaffected
Oaken oar washed, rehooked on the museum wall.

Theories of Marketing

Down there

up the block

in the square of the intersection

black & yellow rolled over

and the fishing commitments

Xs on their foreheads

    and singing

    soon

we will shave all the hair

        from our bodies

        The wartoys march

        the off-white tile

        cracked, grouted. Cold

        ruinous and rigid.