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Neighbors
We
have
neighbors
we
never
speak
to;
I
watch
their
tv
every
night,
flat
screen,
floating
through
our
back
window:
dramas,
all
the
shows,
flash,
sympathetic
flesh
tones;
no
snow
or
drunken
stripes/
color
violence,
confused
analog
of
olden
days
--for
instance
me--
interrupt,
or
diminish
impossible
reality
of
programming.
Corporal
Works of
Mercy
Visit
the
sick
with
mugs
of noodle
soup;
bury
your
dead
in chrysanthemum
petals
of bright
yellow
hope.
Plane
and
lathe
sturdy
walls
of words
and
silence
to
wrap
around
another--
a
sloping
roof
thatched
with
kisses
must
not
be omitted.
Clothe
the
naked,
then
admire
the
dress,
how
the
linen
slips
from
shoulder
to
breast
to
hip...
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