Drew Gardner







a man walks through the shadow of a tree

more sincere, and more parody

but what am I getting myself into …?

this machine does not give change


the green and yellow plastic strips hanging in the car wash doorway move

the position as a poet

in a place where there is no place

for poetry at all, hence

poetry is possible

in its most intense and transforming presence

and that’s okay cause I can gyrate …


where there is a difference

of the branches in the garbage can


one experiences these things without

recording them, and they become other things,

as thought has fled into the boundary

love is the reality, poetry the drum of indication


forget the themes of separation

out of the terror

of which language breaks

be quiet, and descend


to the table looking out

through glass, all feeling now

and cars move past and stop


that unknown is in ourselves

is outside unfelt

of dark the decision is

the same as the surface of the water moved because

the anthems peeling off the world

or hidden in carelessness—


until you breath the intervals of intersections left open

when they disappeared




next  |  previous  |  index