1.

They loved these tigers. They actively sought
these tigers out. They loved the concept of
printing, as nightfall. The AB Dick is a tiger.
I cannot hear myself while it thinks. I actively
do not scrape gunk from the printers eaves, I make
face and stand on chair to make face in elevated
phone neural substantiation. I have a brother in
the earthmover’s project. I feel him, blue skin,
milk stealing, in the tiger’s yawn.


2.

All the pages lapsing and locking by
the evening in locked white light
historiolas. Cinema if branded striping
vertical, poetry if striped lateral.
Address the question of going:.
The stars outside Charlotte’s room
in the early morning ease up
the lettuce rest.


3.

It had always been trees that made the tigers
sing. Sung arrows sparkling,  arrows shoot
out of the blue bogs where the tiger sleeps.
It had always been the trees in Galilee.
It had always been bomb-thrusted gorse.
It had always been the hoarse outsidereal
that shot the breeze from a pip mount.


4.

I adjure you by your power to let
the baby sleep. Tigers grow from trees
when the baby sleeps—not bombed
and not rolling gorse, not arrow-filled
or lateral motion. Not stealing milk.
I remain still from inside sackcloth and ashes,
but a love tripwire rotated algae bredren.


5.

The shelled peas heaped bucks across the arctic-bright fen.
What ever is woven in you by the
tigers; neither warp is alga, nor woof
is nato shells or combed musk.
It is derelict sackcloth from the
offset huskers shone up from
the marbled rooftops.


6.

I wanted to stand still in the sackcloth bog.
Vlad responds to the first draft of this poem.
I wanted to be doing something. Standing still.
Let’s not know what these tigers are and stand still.
The motor replaced does not stand still.
Send the pick to shelled place, riddim gone.
Slumped standing tiger watch.


7.

Experts are confused by the wheatgrass parapet; by his last play:                                
          “Death Threat with Orchestra.” When rising in Uranian
cloud-cover/ Now, we get to the points and procedures
of paper grain. Disembodied grain stripe is all. Ah, but here is the                                  
         enclosure where we used to pick roadside blueberries, all of us, remember?


8.

Can stones be very far behind?  Floated alga melt
bonds from Mohonk krill. Ink on the blue rag again, aeolian
dust-gravure. And I remember now that leopards are the big                                        
              cats I write about, not tigers— Because of the familial                                               
                        connection, my grandfather and all. But a tiger is full of krill. It                                              
                                 is filled with unlettered bluebells.