Saturday, October 8, 2016



(perception of pattern and meaning from
               natural randomness)

The skillet burns that appeared on the tortilla

rolled by Maria Rubio in 1977

looked just like the face of Jesus.

In the bathtub this morning,

a few strands of my hair

formed a watery peace symbol.

Would you pay to see this miracle?

What about snowflakes —

the cloud they fall from this afternoon

resembles another cloud

which resembles a tennis ball

served by my dead mother in 1947.

Surely that proves that all life on earth

is in a big intergalactic bath towel woven.

Somewhere a snowflake pukes on its shoes

in a convenience store parking lot,

At Jiggles, a half-naked snowflake

pole-dances in panties on the bar.

Across the world, another little snowflake

blows itself up in a crowded cafe.

Snow everywhere descending.

It gathers to whiteness.

Why don't we lie down together,

wing-bones touching?

You look like someone I used to love,

only colder.

Dream the Night My Brother Dies

Whichever way I turn there is a door.

I run in and out of the doors.

In one room, inconsolable weeping.

In another, a sad animal regards me.

In a third, a hole in the floor.

I lower my bucket

a long way down on its white rope.

Kim Addonizio
Mortral Trash
Norton 2016