David Bradford
The Sun Set
and I liked it
Everything now is
Language : Fat deli
pickle jars : Cot myrtle
and bog : Hot
moonbeam in the mouth
Compost speckling off
A last sputtering minute : Down
out a ripped up puff jacket :
Tickling the larynx : Feathers
and sparkling : A quiet : Is
finally garbage : Ready
to fly away
Welcome to the dark side
Energy good
You can eat with my face
Barns Are Painted Red Because
of the Physics of Dying Stars
I keep staring the notes gotta
mean something in a minute
Spangler’s doily Doggerel on the lake
Make a day of a wool habit
Now the Tate leads to the
NY library leads to Spitzweg
Beltracchi wisakedjak
to muskrat to gray jay
Pitt shirtless in Fury
Becomes no shame in sequence
Clear your history anyways
Stay Focusd Bishop sequins
Ship Hitachi to girlfriend
Say rue full not rue flay
And do your to-do list Eat this chicken
like a chicken mechanic
Make your mouth a wrench
Note desire for more cows is
the smart translation of war
in Sanskrit I love that
I’ve missed being wanted
Her mouth sweetly on
about grool and the sheets
and two puppies and a sausage link
Softly 56 nucleons
Softly We’re out of milk
Get eggs while you’re at it
gently pets me out of bed
Wipe
to read cat person
or just lie here
coffee’s rocky cane
sugar down my chin
canola under the
sole tree in a big field
like a roof meant to
soak thru its all moving
limbs a cinema verily
a crispy happening
two piece before the rain
I eat very slowly
tender clucking as it
shrinks honey dripping
lines one bite at a time
run over my thigh bones
brimming as a birdbath
David Bradford is a poet and editor based in Tio'tia:ke/Montréal, on the unceded territory of Kanien’kehá:ka Nation. His first book, Dream of No One but Myself, is forthcoming from Brick Books.