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1. The Lard Sculpture
won't last, is avalanching slowly, like the aged
Brezhnev, like a stupendously deflating
Thanksgiving Day parade balloon. The Old Man
snoozes through the after-dinner encomia,
cherubic, digesting his chicken a la king,
not yet nudged awake for his big farewell
to the Historical Society, and the society's
last round of applause. A pillar of books
is all he'll leave behind, and none too steady,
either, books on books.... The minute he's gone,
it'll be toppled. Lard, in this god-awful weather,
what were they thinking? Look at him , though,
the Old Man, dreaming of better times, sleeping
the sleep of the holy. And dying in effigy.

2. Shrooms With Theo
The afternoon snow-warm, cool-humid,
a boxed-in, cottony light-headedness

through which our stripped-bare babble
sounds, my high to his high, ridiculous,

ri dic u lous , each syllable a bobber sucked
under waves of gut-clenching hysterics.

Waves of pinpricks over nape and hands:
a pair of doves fucking above us

in the feathery dark of a pine dislodge
little loaves of snow that, falling,

detonate in bright, tightening whorls
of stardurst, sunsheen and snowfleck....

[laughing] You're old enough to be my — Please:
You're young enough, let's say, to be my — Sh.

jeans creaking kneeward still cherishing
the body outstanding from a squarish tangle

of rustbrown his swaying daylit cock enters
the world & the world pinestraw the silken fsh

of skin over smoother skin the cooling warmth
of open underthings the world lets go

disintegrates to gusts of pollen I breathe in
deep deeper O quick spindrift a blizzard

in full sun Theo the O — & dizzily
clutch him like a stanchion both hands

to the base & he staggers crumples &
comes coming in not clots of nacre

but a flung quiver of needles and pins hot
or cold I still can't tell which

3. Ornithology
My father brought it to me
on a snow shovel, its feathers disheveled,
head altogether gone, and said,

What kind of bird was this?
I glanced at the sooty plumage,
the limp fat scaly pink — I'll be damned,

I cried, this pigeon is banded.
— Another datum for the lost souls
at the Audubon Society.

The stench grew sweeter. I found
a pair of snips and neatly
amputated. The band rolled off.

My father whispered, Look.
Out of the disconnected foot
and out of the shank, a host

of larvae writhed in milky
plenitude, eating themselves
out of house and home

— and now that we noticed,
were dribbling from the severed throat,
and no doubt filled the bulging breast:

millions of them jostling forth
into the light, ready in days
or hours to rise into the air

and bear the body away.
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