Weston Cutter

Cat’s Cradle

light through tree
                          like discrepancies
of yearning . &nbsp go &nbsp ahead + believe
every thought ends
         with a period + each breath’s
a semi-colon
              no one knows    how
to use correctly in the sentence that is
  the storm    bearing through what’s left
of    the ash now    that    borers
                                     have chewed its heart
like regret . branches shake
                                      +shiver,flex +quiver
  like shadows      cast from wall-
mounted candles in     every     church
I ever slammed    a door       heading in   to

or   leaving      whispering     givenwords
              but praying only   save   me   save
me save me
:    praying only   for   proof

that this jubilant mistake-making   I breathe
so anxious    was    something‘s    in tent .    tell me

 how  to believe      I’m worth  what ever’s

been sacrificed .  the storm   sounds like a cat

 thrown   from a moving car

              in a flaming   pillowcase + Lord

if this is your image — scared man

in basement beneath bowing world, seething

from-above catastrophe — we’re both

  more hideous    than    I feared.

Close Enough

The future will be all foam soap
and touchscreens, poof, facsimiles
of all we for now breathe +ex
perience : someday I’ll point
at some picture, say Here’s
when I went to Rome by going, here’s
the time I tried on a toga, poof:
each its own form of truth.
In order of uselessness: wreaths
of Ceasarian laurel leaves, how
any river flows through history,
toga parties. Who has yet to dress
with any hope
                       other than to later
disrobe perhaps while getting drunk
enly or otherwise groped, perhaps
groping back, vino’ed up + spilling
some hard-earned grape-induced
truths. Hail poof, et tu poof, I came
not to bury poof but to praise: e-
ventually I awoke in the slatelight
of dawn in some city, any city, + from
the window caught scent of what
ever river flowed through, river
named after some ancient term
for this hill seems
                       as good as any

in a language no one spoke and
therefore believed so beautiful


Weston Cutter‘s from Minnesota and is the author of All Black Everything and You’d Be a Stranger, Too.