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Michael Rerick

This selection from “Light Interpretations” thinks through various connotations and combinations of “light” and “interpretation.” The poems seem to want to ask what light is, linguistically and visually, and how we can take it. So, light is shed and gathered. These poems are also in conversation with another poem series entitled “Dark Observations” that consider darker aspects of interpretation. 

 

from: Light Interpretations

 

 

character thieves hunch the jamb

overcoming the human heart a

moon cut hangs the city out line

a wheel and spoke collusion

 

the particle accelerator book by the red shirt is not particle acceleration science

 

dull, brutal greenway lawn drive

ways to box mind transistors bound

concrete hums wire and light

 

a yellow bag travels over a conveyer belt and through an x-ray

 

-

 

brown basil branches cannot

undead fallacious chaos and

desire perfumed with garlic

 

sweated asphalt heats waiting but music counters with timed tocks

 

building mishaps timber

a frame, a door consent

to unhinge splinters wrong

 

palo verde branches twisted into chicken wire wall an urban chicken coop

 

early sleeplessness glints bling

parking lot hubcaps like olive

leaves, a dirty glass aura grilled

with screens working a grip

 

one roach and an entire silverware drawer submerges in soapy water

 

lattice without a garden grows

eye holed, squared, cut, planed

where the sun metal half creeps

 

the broken desk drawer and drill conjure a magic Faust felt in his lab

 

-

 

thought folios gear Audubon Park

trees the receiver strings with photos

 

boxes and boxes full of hands and this box hides a hand saw blade

 

wire and clouds sky perches a

wealthy visit to grade the view

of low wall permits painted glass

 

a wag brightens the room, the street, the bus, the park, the store, the butts

 

empty triangles or rings shadow

hard in tipped aluminum walls

 

after living all day sleep chores thick blue blankets to task

 

-

 

saunter to strut aware or

sway with a slight stagger

no sashays but streaks

and swift strides the street

 

an artist transforms corners and floors into relaxing and sleeping spaces

 

pressure taunts rain out

together a wind tumbles

trash slashed en masse

 

in time, the front yard draws what plants and birds want together in the air

 

lies wash the mouth open

often warm and opportune

 

the corner bowling pin trophy won the night you whooshed the fire extinguisher

 

crowbar apartment mold

exposes terrible cackles

canned tones cornered

crossed in arms in chairs

 

grocery bags crinkle work and clink new bottles of oil

 

fuck guts motherfuck across

Mohave fuck fuck trucks

bad luck street light fucks

 

voices, the wood change dish, visits, swamp cooler warp, laundry—every new thing

 

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stones irradiate carpenters

travel in hoopties swing

states built on crime rates

 

treasure of failed paintings, unused gifts, and rolled posters found not in a famous closet

 

water clean tiles soap

streaked with grout

meet a blade’s shine

 

buses, bicycles, and feet with an iPod soundtrack would make a most boring movie

 

 

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