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Two Poems


Dawn Pendergast

Love Poem to the Fourth

We are in these tulips
of our middlesex
there we are, Wanderfuzz

the helmets of our own
concupecence
the blatant andiron:

boom goes the box
on the poolside of our lilting Pro-
tests:

Give me an icee says I

in our two-tent router-eater what
ever the Tenants of our New Deal pay, PAY
and DO as they DO
it in the stitched up bug light
in Andover in Munich
w/ timechanges DO
as we pass them macro-
aviary: Alt, Control, Etc.

**

Gorilla, you are
and ninny nest and me the slingshot
and yokel my butt the fulcrum at daybreak

smoking
crack
in the handlebars
of a gator,

the downed bugs
ellipsiseses

**

Born on the backs
of little dogs
on spots
on horserings
on mown
lawns

WALK THE EVERY DAY IN
THIS EVENING PLUME / ORANGES
BREAKING OPEN

w/ Giant on,
James and Elizabeth on
our choppers & on
our haunches & in
woody hills w/ bags
and clubs;

git on, you
git



Birds Of Certain Seemly Coats


I have blowy new skirts
in the closet of my perpetual ramming


and your hamstring strung
from the wire tower. Damsel, you say


and I'm neither
white nor wrought nor budding.


The handy switch of your choosing
shishes across my nether regions. It burrs.


Outside, the seconding of birds at swim in
the drastic weather of their own sewing.


A fold of no one's sheep, moist
and asleep.          The dew is more for them.


For us, there are crumblings
of gesso loaves. Then you mooned


the french doors this morning, and again, there
was no end. I am plucking ducks and boxing them in


the seemliest of maneuvers. Each feather
is a sort of shuffling. I am thinking your name.