STEFFEN BROWN
FROM HAPPY ENDINGS
to be from above
it equals difficult
to get inside [a bull] to
give it to you as such
and know that if you
can’t see then
close your eyes
there are four as much
on a table there
is the table tools and chair
look children everywhere and
when i draw a turkey
it looks like
a hand and
five fingers
some feathers
i draw a rooster
to be forever
skeptical of a bird in flight or
not flying but floating
grey-blue and bland
collectively we
release our hands
into water
we wave
slight feathers
to be tortured
is to be released slowly and
to feel finally
on the eve of greatness
to be infinitely pieced
sometime in spring
it is something
to be confessed not
how a wound heals
from suture but
to be blessed in spring
to be a snake
i don’t want to be a snake
not the cold cure or
custom bake of pastries
not the gun
or the rabbit
habit not the habit but
ride freedom dancer
ride down the sick ravine
find a remedy
make me please
to be allied
lilies itself
pours out the cabinets
the coffins ouch
mineshafts mimicked—
tonight it was curry
tomorrow a
dull glaze
it was never a question of to be
but simply a matter of
incongruous movement and
an expectation of survival
the lack of a map and key
fast fact has
too much to say
for knowing
and pulls every thread
till breaking