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mary kasimor

I wrote an epic about last year
it was young and old
it was about 10 sparrows in a tree
it was a murderer and I was a woman
it built more homes than
were needed
it wired itself into
channels
              I can hear everything
it explodes        and the news
dismisses its significance

an acre on
a large piece of land that knows
it’s alive
and seduces relativity
the mountains are flattered
nature doesn’t understand itself
but there is a display of things for baby
in the middle of a big box store
and next to that we determine
proximity
as its closeness to nothing

did we die?      I am not
learning our future language
I want to be metaphysical
I want to describe the days after
it arrives
                       as time without sequence
I want to press all the buttons at
once          but I saw 10 sparrows
in a tree
the tree was named universal
              and I could not see it