[from this morning… new lyrics inside connie’s speech in burnt umber; she’s national guard, crawling up out of the mass grave in tuzla she accidentally slipped into one drunken evening in the rain… lulu is her autistic daughter and mamama is her senile mother]



Climbing Guadalupe, stationary striations in the sky, father in lead, 12, jet drops net of roar. Legs burn, trailhead to base; catch rhythm at the switchbacks. Then I taste bitter almonds and sweet raisins. Then I hear the angel. Then I smell anise. Tired and happy. Summiting; tent’s up, twilight. Night, roasted maize, a cap of brandy, Hailstorm plays his flute. At 12, I know his news, father quietly to the fire with Hail, about someone’s bees and his love for the people who keep them, manzanita burns to perfect white clay.


LULU (Under Connie’s speech.)

Then I taste bitter almonds and sweet raisins

Then I hear the angel

Then I smell anise


Satellite, a satellite

In the dry archive

Of the lost, horrible sea

A kind of phosphor

Ties up every tree


Contrails sublime

And satellites wipe


On my back, my first turning, my first turning away, in hope, from the earth. I saw – and then I saw my first satellite, a star unstuck and drifting, air-perfect and heaven-immediate. My father: the cancer, the gun slinging racist, sleeps next to his artillery sergeant on one side of the pit, me on the other, rimming the fading fire’s hum. On the back of fossilized monsters, in the dry archive of the lost and horrible seas of the ancient world, a kind of phosphor ties up every tree. Contrails sublime and satellites wipe.



Satellite draws fake constellation a map of no place

Satellite turns us into the bottom of a hole

Satellite lives in/ satellite gives us limbo



God I miss limbo

Satellite: give me somewhere to do

Where I don’t have to know

There are a couple of things to be done

I can manage maybe one

Time to go


Rude of the sky

The beauty of the satellite is how it can go the cold,

Withhold forgiveness

I can’t I eat bread

I make a bed

And lie in it

And I get up from it

Satellites trace new constellations as they arrow

Satellite, the ants, repetitive start, the dark gift

Of a rolling limbo

Go, go, go, go, go



Constancy, constance                                                            ERANA

The constant is resistance                                                            The lost, horrible sea

Making demands on indeterminacy                                    Archive in all but memory

I leave the dead my stick and camera

The dead publish their thoughts about us

On the burn-down

Through secret satellite



Climbing down, falling up

Do you really think you are alone

Even a mountain is a hole

Into which control drops

Here is where your wishing stops

Constance stance dance

Trace, erase, o satellite



I pray to limbo

Leave the dead my camera and stick

I am sick of this

Let me go



The lapsing cling of the moon’s wild petal

The collapsing lung of the world


CONNIE (Speaking.)

Robert, with cancer, is ash from the insides out.



Lulu wanders off, gets lost on a terrible planet.



In my suit of lights.

You had me dead to rights

Night’s a bullfight, paso doble

And all passes by serene


Black the pins the pricks of light

The milk the leak the jar to carry the leak

Snake bread stone fish nouns nouns, the water

We are your sons and daughters


In my suit of lights

Planets come and go

Angels leave their bodies and

Ashes fall


A nighttime game of blood and turbines

Entropy and hopeful hearts combine

In my suit my boast and bruit

I wait a while, drought-river root

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