NOTE TO DAN ON THE ENDING
Every time the door opened and she looked
“Such is the life of the elderly
It is curious, lying in a bat” then closed.
A park a
Lewd son bursting into ash approach end deliberating
All the signs on all the stoops. Is this the part where she has a beer?
Does this weigh pewter?
By the patch saying dime to enter I believe it does.
I believe in trading heartbeats for the will to planets
I believe in candlelight and the front may draw
The ocean’s larger face
To have known, not swallowed is the will to be
Went out through casts forlorn
FOUR HUNDRED AND SECOND HOW-TO
Take a goal
Set it down
Write way through it
Write “it’s hell”
Write “like loss”
Then sign away your name in cursive.
Then sign away your name in black.
Then sign away your name in gold.
Then sign away your name. Allow.
Run toward. Do not be charmed with a lot.
When notions do rise do not cancel them but blot
Tan, tune and take for a ride any low-hanging fruit
THE FIGARO OF WHO ANNE
It looked like a calculator
but was actually the unfettered conclusion
of a brand cold-leading
a problem into my art: delivery
the worst debt of all who earn it looked, why, to me, like man
had turned it and bargained to stop
when through gun lightning sawed his hand
to replace foil. Messed. up. I was just writing a little swirli
cue a little heart den hiccup
My life unswallowed me to be Who Anne
To know
WISTRYA
Tea is made of all of it
And the spangled green kitchen, marriage is a fortress to
it is so plain. Curd, eggs, salad
set holly on the third
doorway to the enemyplaybook: “hi” or “cast.”
The night, when donned, braids such a tooth.
Infantry, like the mortician's dog, enters, again and again.
No light that’s swaddled such rain
boots the winter war when up, no ligature runs.
I ham
a potion.
I turtle, cats wane
went to the isle, drew myself a tiki house
sung of samson sung of tiles, cray cups
then swatted south.
That way over.
Woweth.
I was goned.
Pray functional, it is like I am seeing
the eye where it cuts, not lessons
ELISE HOUCEK is the author of TRACTATUS (Spuyten Duyvil) and a poetry pamphlet,The Leafs, with the Creative Writing Department. She likes to eat radishes, teaches writing to kids and is a graduate of the MFA program at Notre Dame. More work can be found at elisehoucek.com.