mandan (they send)

By Roberto Harrison
like the lost car that a river knows
like the heat of an ointment in pinpoints of breathing
like the unknown western in mountains of tar
like a knot in each word for comfort
like a horse on a face with four hooves
like the knives that a heart squirms into
like the feel that the last day pushes, that a fire paints red
like the shower that a plain divides in snakes
like a frozen torso pining for food
like the ammunition that a pair of wings makes dry
like a shirt that plants seeds under worn out skin
like the clouds of mistakes, pouring through sleep
like the walls that crack open
like a wake in a spin
like the exits of oceans that a salmon knows
like the dust that is written with number
like a trust full of beacons of light
like the negative shade of a fungus
like the promise that a lie gives out
like the pulse of a trap
like the rainbow that cuts off a hand
like a psychic intent full of negative calls
like salt for the season that covers the fields with jail
like the round word that a star pisser pulls
like the plains that a crossed out calendar day will mourn
like the fate of the wrong side of talking
like hills under snow that a letter revolves
like the husky reflections of leeches that writhe
like a sword in Toledo
like the animals growing a vent in a cage
like the sequence of nights dropping straw for a cipher
like the trade in the fair full of cycles and ends
like the cattle that heat all the drains with green grass
like the nipples of outdoor intentions
like a wing on the door that a glass makes arise
like the underground fluid of digitized words
like the ice in a cavern
like a ride through the green light of dying
like the yellowish herd of relational cards
like the face that a wallet becomes
like the wrong line of radios making a rule
like the crust on the last day of hunger
like the rodeo riding the real for a cut
like the cells in the spread of the fall
like an ape for the circle of color
like reflections that turn on a wheel
like the freezer of sweethearts
like a change for the current that makes a return
like the pause on the shore full of rattles
like the oxygen tent making holes in a lung

the face
of friendly fire
is knotted
for a smile

deleted
for a smile
that saves
the executioner

the face
intended
jail, by rocking
through the holes
that fear
the clear blue
family
of dots

the face
resembles
next to nothing
in the network
full of incremental
touches
that a string
intends to limit
by the light

the face
of arctic
evolutions, a hunt
that people came
to read
instead of mapping
all the flights
of sleep
without a sound

the face
of terrible returns
will fade
outside the pouring
crowd
of animal
relation
in the mineral
of wealth

the face
of providence
is making shores
for surfers
in the foam
of magnifying
eyes
that are the opposite
of winter calm

the face
is never there
in each intention
that the worst
reliance
knows to ask
for heat

the face
is after
every opening
that makes
a number
count
for all
of what is good

like a robot that falls and makes good for a switch
like the breasts of a mop that soaks blood
like a magnifying glass for the sun
like the picture of radar in space
like a misery flood on the phone
like electrical laughter that the pointed shake
like enemies held in a double embrace
like extinctions returning
like a handshake of style for the heat
like the flower that bottles a fly for a mouth
like the still dunes of dust on a beautiful girl
like the crack in an oven
like a moon that gets brighter with age
 

Copyright Credit: Roberto Harrison, "mandan (they send)" from Bicycle.  Copyright © 2015 by Roberto Harrison.  Reprinted by permission of Noemi Press.