from Tire Fire



.

low before and
low desolation
low rose bushes
multiflower

flood and floodplain
floor and acres
the lows
not never attain no
low clumps and below
mid July along noon or so
the yellow green miles allow

wind and backwater spray
the lowest part of the state
green gray cottonwoods
turning over in foaming sweeps






.                      

carp suck air the
carp face i
pass the park pass
bark and birds there 
are jays in the juniper
in this city park
i juke a little
salt waves on my shirt

juniper and gray birds
take the beads they take
beads the birds they
swallow hole the beads of
juniper gray light
blue beads




.

locust thorn and
shapes of leaves
rocks and lakes
fish in the green
algaed water
rocks like
crushed and piled
plush upholsteries the
interstate waves
chrome and convex 
high ground clearance
limited slip
lifts into
petrified
dunes




.

i learned to love
from cattle country
adverts full of tenderness
for trucks that haul
recovered calves
from slickered shoulders
gloved hands





.


near frond
cicadas
near frond
cicadas
cremesicle starts a
pushup sky
cars go by
hondas or whatever
cicada in serrated leaves
thornless locust
cicada in serrated leaves
walnut
cicada leaves
its body in the bark
cicada harks
xo



Justin Cox’s work has appeared in jubilat, Denver Quarterly, The Iowa Review, and is forthcoming in The Canary. Justin teaches at the University of Iowa and has been a fellow at the International Institute of Modern Letters in Wellington, New Zealand.