Reasoning

By Kevin Holden


now I wonder where the redemption in fireflies
which have a certain childhood
cross-sections of ant trails along the sand
clay and bronze sigils
with glass and leaves and flesh
the watermarks of algebra the triangulations of elements
over and inside the inside.
but this is only empty complexity.
so instead they looked to Dixie cups floating in fountains
and I just cried out for the taste of my tears.
she said K begins with Kafka
and we misprinted her name
as if the history of mirrors
was bent in two large volumes
one for red and one for blue
he of course had a brown notebook
and was so scared of wandering eyes.
the stuttering crowbars limp
here and the player piano
there and the cobra charms the bird.
unfortunately, the fort is abandoned.
but we will always play with the ws;
or he or she if not we.
there will be twos and time for ice
then there is FedEx and UPS
no ups for downs just pie in slices.
they were cocktails for the Spanish eyes.
I heard once of a garden where a rose grew and held the world under its sepals.
then the dog told me it was just a myth.
so I’m left with nothing but distractions,
my toys teetering out their rhyme for eyes and yes.
when the two bars were bent there was still iron,
and there was sound
and there was space
and lots and lots of coils, crumpled papers, frogs and bees.
for example, we have: the frogs will swallow us in our sleep.
know that there he was under the water
at the stool at the piano
singing out something he knew by heart
before the drowned time and memory,
for bark, for veils, for the center away from soil
and he had his hand to hold in mine.