A midnight census

In the background the pool 
pump hums. Put clarifier 
in the water, & now it has to
circulate for thirty-six hours
to let the clouding particles 
coalesce.
                 There is a smoke 
smell in the air. Drove around 
over the last few days on roads 
impinged upon by opportunistic 
grasses. A day of rain & they 
grow. A month later they are dry, 
primed for burning. Easier to 
set them alight than mow the 
strip that runs along the road-
side.
          The static geometry of the 
house separates the evening into 
panels. A quintych. Angular, o-
blique. Trees fill in some of the 
gaps, but the most striking are 
those where there are gaps in 
the trees themselves, one in part-
icular, bite-shaped, as if some-
one had tried an apple & then 
abandoned it. Acute.
                                       Touch 
yourself. Only flesh,
which the hand passes 







along the way

cigarettes

coffee

chicken & rice

burnt grass

a tart plum












through as if it wasn’t there.