From The Essential C. D. Wright, which will be published this month by Copper Canyon Press.

clouds jammed into the foreground     big toe in the suckhole

with all our know-how     all our equipment     you would think

we would be on guard     be smarter than water     less indifferent

than the critter at the corner     or the machine     that rolled over its head

so early in the season     so many dead things to build on

a broom goes before me     the dog refuses to budge

leaves winging down onto leaves     under such conditions

on american soil     longtime dealers in old things unemployed

shrink     teachers     pastry chefs     horn player with a monster sound

the stuff of legends     married cousins     then a loopy face

behind a glass enclosure     being driven away     sliding from sight

a man smokes listlessly on a bed     next to a mound

of swollen books     written in french     his shoes set out to dry

scent of last tenant     unwashed socks shut up in a box     crept out

onto the landing     of the photographer’s house     searched

9/11 by the authorities     sprayed that hateful date on the front

windows tall enough for a mast to pass under     my friend

didn’t lose much     by comparison     but still     the top floor

on top of which     mother murdered     husband deserted

who kept hens in the heart of town     where I used to hear birds

when I phoned     now bullhorn now chopper     someone

puts a plate in her hands     hours later     someone takes the plate

from her lap     and says damn if it isn’t overcast again     it’s time to get out

the candlesticks