1.

my son is reading “Howl”

with four eyes––

two are tinted dark-colored with wings,

two are reading, frozen below the shutter.

2.

people are walking

across the sidewalks prepared for them.

3.

I know other stars are behind the Sun.

4.

I’m impatient.

I want the imagery to be done

before I start to mark the page.

this got me into trouble in New Bedford.

5.

New Bedford, an old salt who

went down to the sea in ships.

6.

this to make oil

to make perfumes

to smear the nightly interiors

in a brushed-earth glaze

and to grease its industry.

all these things from blubber.

7.

my heart breaks at the closing door.

my fear is being among the same sort of souls;

blanched-grey,  all of the same mind and

suffering the same way without name tags.

8.

they call this Heaven.

once known as the back bench-seats 

of limitless two-door sedans.

9.

my son has left Carl Solomon to his dust

and has moved to the Footnote.