Jordan Davis

 

WHAT IS THAT WHAT THAT IS

I give up it's fall
Listening to the love of anything
Say some cliche I have a crush
The train goes by with a boom

I go to work it's so cold
The wind is in my face I can't breathe
Everybody walking the other way
Looks at the sidewalk black hair pale skin

Cars go by with trees in back
A single tree on the cliffs is red
Women in ads look sad
They're not beautiful but you are
You and the river
The river is burning green

I am not decent! I'm no authority!
I'm caught like a cat

 

THE MOON OUTSHINED BY CIGARS

Two arcs joined at the ends
A thin scree. The sink
Gills up Bromeliad
Unabridge mortgage fiddle / Gemini
Warm and there is motion
So it double loops       Crash
Bouncing down the     - door
Says hello, Eric says hello, Maria
Ventilator (80 mph).
It is refracted cry
Slav mom if fakemonger irrefrangible
A monologue I legs crossed
And get contango    laugh
She wasn't even
My pollenation quadrille
The New Columbia what do we
Settling quarter tone

 

CIGARS OUTSHINED BY THE MOON

Sadness is cold
Cat looks at me, he's money
And I won't be that way myself
In this critical shack light
Coming in from weddings
August directs to park all across me
Phase me with a quip
Ambient solace is tired and I'm starving
I'm lonely, I feel let

 

SOI-DISANT SOFT PORN

My love tears at the fringe
Of my snorkel jacket
She draws narrow things
In the margin of her casiotone

TV hurled in the holy vibes
From the violation notebook
The cop holds no information
Has barely kept me warm

Midnight is lighter than everyone
A great deal on interference
The music on the telephone put there by an adult
And even if you talk down to yourself

What leisure days deliver
Takes months or longer to arrange
Our nation floats in propyl
It fades and leaves a scent

Three dimensions is everyone inhaling
The grid my heart and syncopation acting mayor
My stomach doesn't hurt I don't smoke
The bus doesn't whistle anymore

Pink isn't the color of the devil
The comics aren't covering my floor
Equity finally the last week of this confinement
Out from the age and the social quiet

 

TRAIN ON A POEM

The pages flutter in the ad.
O thing,
Into which we fan like grease,
Having put ourselves up in the guest satchel,

They protect the artillery
Basically. You give several million
To a spare life.
Cries of cherries.


TRAIN ON A POEM

Meat commutes
And heat transmutes
The music of the fears
To the question:
What are years?
The finest worse newspapers


TRAIN ON A POEM

She lets her coats
Fall backwards over posts
She's
From the bird-traffic
Hallelujia
Critical-thinking smoke broker


TRAIN ON A POEM

Mouse listening to the pizza
Other mice drag up the downtown track
You seem abstracted, are you
Literary? Whom are the rats
Reading nowadays?


TRAIN ON A POEM

Modern containers unloaded from Sao Paulo
Freighters in Shreveport onto Southern
Crescent drayage bound for St Louis.
Some'll go on to Chicago but most
The stockers attach to cabs wet.
They shouldn't detach them for too long
Or they'll spoil, they ain't mail.


THE DELUGE OF CREAKINGS

Old shed, no heat,
Cold meat.
Stories attack the matter and render it unusable.


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