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Three Poems


Laura Carter

The Boat's Eye

The hammer has been displaced. It
asked far too much.
The woman is dressed
in an evening. In a blade:
doesn't mind,
she, the meaning behind patron,
asks patron for a
drought. Stones for breasts---it
rewards far past what
is asked. Stones for
breasts, stones for one sea:
not to be
tread crosswise.


My Philosophy About Driving on Highways Where Wars Have Occurred

The purpose is to lay bare any assumption
that ontology is a virtue common
to the living. Who are you? Where does
the world come from? The purpose is to lay
bare any assumption that light is
a quality common to the capillary.
I have a jar full of bottled thoughts.
My neck is a pillar of urgency.
Its purpose is to break open. Its purpose
is to lay bare any assumption
that being is an attribute. Its purpose
is to lay bare any assumption
that imaginary being is
a morality common to the Americans.
Its purpose is to lay bare
by the organic structure I call
my own, the physical structure I call it.


Archival

On the park bench, a rock. No, a stone.
Has it been done before? Are you, sir,
my mother? I need a little holiday.

On the hanging vine, a small box of briars.

On the jar, a man hangs a cape of living
bodies. Can I canonize

the back part of your body, sir, mother?
I promise to be smooth.

On the defender's converse,
a destroyed man. A prop for the stand. The bending

of an image: the abeyant trellis,
ramping its own watery

bridge, on the philosopher's
swan there is a mark of no consequence.