Lewis Warsh


The Packards

The heretic’ s papers were spread out on the armchair


At the window, fruit of
you can bite again
against the weather

weapons I let fall outside
pharmacies, drowsy and bright


Air comes to the confused bends in the rail where
in a mirror lush food puts you
out for 1 night. Then it is the weather
at noon that prepares to spring on you
in December, a month ago
blowing the lights out with a sob


On long walks
a poorly tuned radio