WOLF LAKE

Picked bright winter berries
rest in your warm leggings

ducks winter in warm diesel-
spotted waters at the toll road

approach; we have the car
& Jugo de Coco

we lost much today
we don’t want to know

HOW MANY BUBBLES ARE IN A BAR SOAP?

What you got today,
aluminum meal tray?

In walks an owl
to collect

meat and fur,
pieces of the road

that are me
for a moment, and soon,

will not be.

You go with who you are
as rain falls on hotdog buns

& other silent conditions
of the leasehold,

machine names
assigned

for the stars and their babies,

cobbles in the mouth
of the sky cracked open.

Heaven needs
how many chains

to leash the Earth?

How many bubbles
are inside a bar of soap?

Some questions intend to
depeople the human terrain

down to Birmingham
sitting on a bench

next to no one.

WEST FROM CICERO

Drop ceiling, vinyl wood panel,
ballast buzz,

carmaggedon’s bright avenue
markets space for the curious

in the choreography
of Tae Kwon Do.

EAT SHIT, BEEF

for Tom again

Shrimp & Egg eyeball
home penetration
neither caritas nor clarity
left in the car
all but me or mine
onward to the exit of time

birds turn into birds
different seeming in intelligence and habit
natural gasses could do more with suzerainty

as a finger folds back the pink gills
in the sky

I leave you to study how the earth was used today

to get over
    itself

Joel Felix

Joel Felix was raised a few miles south of Ford's River Rouge motor works in Dearborn, Michigan. He taught at the School of the Art Institute, among other institutions, and co-edited the 90's-00's editions of LVNG Magazine in Chicago. His first book length collection, Limbs of the Apple Tree Never Die, was published by Verge Books in 2013.

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