James Grinwis The 2River View, 7.1 (Fall 2002)

Configuration of Crumbs

The cold heaps of other mountains,
antelopes brushing the sky....
When they’re through eating
they remember the minds
they have done damage to.
In the distance, mountains
furl and unfurl. They hold
warm, inexpugnable depths,
soothing unreflective things,
such as what you feel at dawn,
adjusting your alarm clock, determined
to have french fries for breakfast.
This is new, you have never done this,
and believe it will be a way
to make the irregular firm.
This is all new for me, the man
is thinking. The man is thinking
that if he possessed a baguette
he’d bash it over the dismalness
and remember all kinds of bread.
Because of all the crazy things.
Because there seems no escaping
the frustrated house. It’s red,
jammed with leaves, and when
you pluck a leaf you will be like
the way you plucked it, nobody seeing
your way through to where you’re going.
The way we’re going is somehow up
though one wouldn't notice it as such.

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