Andrew K. Peterson
CONTENTS
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My Falsetto Leopard Print Is A Dream Of Alec Baldwin
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I Seldom Think of Creatures That Devour in the Night
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Reparations for a Riot Deferred
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Work Song
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Dude I Like See Your Tracers In This Back Issue Of Time Or, Imagining The Sun As The Absolute Asshole Of The Universe
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Ambitions of the Marshfield High Graduating Class of 1997
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Looming Riddle
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Seven Minutes in Courtyard Rain Outside Anthropologie
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Sharkwrecked!
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Someone Plays Mary J. Blige’s “Real Love” On Repeat 14 Times
MY FALSETTO LEOPARD PRINT IS A DREAM OF ALEC BALDWIN
For Joe Cooper
Driving home from visiting I imagine what terrible farmers we’d make if we were farmers
We’d be terrible defending our farm from the roaming German hoard of radioactive wild boars
But we’d probably be good at letting wildflowers shape the fields while livestock grazes in sunshine
The road curves contracts and expands a butterfly tandem
files a spiral groove above
I listen to Fleet Foxes
I listen to Pet Sounds
I remember looking up from our collaborations as you lurched towards the bathroom to puke, feeling bad like I should help, but what’s the point, though I see how it’s a gesture, vomiting’s a private (and automatic) thing
I listen to High Violet (think private thoughts)
I think “my falsetto leopard print is a dream of Alec Baldwin”
I remember hugging goodbye on your lawn this morning you were wearing your pink Hot Whiskey tee while your landlord watched us (I wasn’t embarrassed)
I listen to Love’s Forever Changes and remember how we talk jokes until the words tip in place a little
If we were farmers, we could clear the range and wander while
grass grows on the bark of a fallen trunk
Maybe we wouldn’t make such bad farmers really
I SELDOM THINK OF CREATURES THAT DEVOUR IN THE NIGHT
For Joe Cooper
dreamt about transformer bugs
half-grasshopper half-scorpion
100% transformer bug
the attendant keeps falling into me provocatively
in a big space station
sorry I don’t know any good
homophonic translation essays
(this is the non-dream part):
I find a Jesus palm card at the drive-thru ATM
you tell me not to use because I’m not a car but do anyway
on the card Jesus spoons a passed-out dude
purple tee & dirty jeans
Jesus looks like a soft lover who might playfully bite your neck
if you say his stigmatas looks like miniature assholes
I don’t think Jesus’ stigmatas look like miniature assholes
Do you think Jesus’ stigmatas look like miniature assholes?
I tuck Jesus and his friend in your peppermint tin
now every time you reach for fresh breath you can consider
whether Jesus’ stigmatas look like miniature assholes
I changed my mind a little Jesus’ stigmatas look more like
miniature assholes than they did before
Do you know the joy of being forgiven?
SOMEONE PLAYS MARY J. BLIGE'S "REAL LOVE" ON REPEAT 14 TIMES
For Brandon Brown
Waiting for the light to change, a car goes too far and backs out the intersection. Change the
station Autumn Sweater’s on prepping to talk with a friend in
pain. Read “even through the pain you experience, you might try to imagine the ache connects you with all suffering beings,
alive in all the realms, connecting.” In Detroit, crack dealers diversify to include Oxycontin.
Biology, economics.
By the gas station, a landscaper in a Nautica tee is tossing roots in a barrel. Signs on the lawns
around town say, VOTE NO. I don’t want to; I won’t. It must be spring, to hear the peepers
muck the dark on Oak. Someone sings, “Hold tenderly to what remains.”
What’s this pill in my pocket? Take it, and await enlightenment.