Praise Song Sing

I
A dog hunches under my knees, which are under a desk.
Octaves wander into the light-licked corners of each room
in each house on this street. The sun is on the other side of the world.

II
A straight star unlike light

and proof is being needed.


III
The Chinese symbol for heat looks like a rain cloud and its aftermath.
The Norwegian word for lightning is letthet.
David Letterman once said,
I cannot sing, dance or act; what else would I be but a talk show host?
In Serbia, a hostage said to his mother through videotape,
Expect I die.
And he did.

I’ll eventually say each syllable
Knows you know February in 1959 did something like February 2002.
We feel it in the cartilage.
We shrink inside ourselves upon another octave.
We think music can’t be like this: our bodies decide
The unwoven sound crashes against us unlike waves.
Pluck an eyelash and your eyelid slaps back into place.
Throw another page into the trashcan like fool’s gold.
Let the dog lick your ankles because it loves you.
And don’t let sweet is sweet in any language bother you.