WOULD THE HARE’S WIFE
SLEEP
WET?
The insoluble rift between two hares
Huddled in small depression
Not a matter of brotherhood, per se
But the ease with which one severs the moon
From the other’s movement
To please, in other words
The wicked shall always win
A young hare bounding bright eggs off the mission
The taste of old straw, until there is tension
To let us break crotch, I could stare
Forever
Into arrhythmia
And hairless, walk
Through light discord
The world was so, and handsome
I will divest you for my robe
And my elaborated skull
Floating over with twenty-eight teeth. A film
Racing primitive ground beside a primitive
Line cannot crease a future in books. Exactly
Where would I find the significant hares
Mating on islands with berries
Crushed into white brush and fluffy?
Everything must fit everything
Is speculative. Suddenly
A chimney screams into the picture
Belching smoke-red highlights
The whole world
Is incorporated, buying a soda without squinting
Walking in on a hare taking a dump
In the shower
Pounding black harrows like elixir
While boys cutting lace beneath heads of wives
Stuffed with the guts of the largest friends
Insinuating your name
In the softening wilds, can I
Be finally through with you?
I just lost a thousand pounds
Hopping over the lightest brains
In reflux, spring’s bloodiest shoots
Being chased is a thrill
Spoke the gentler hare, as is
Bathing one’s boils in fresh water, however
Long blows continue to spread
Tender night as illusive as armistice
The night is tender
on the bed of grasses …
… in night dew?
Brandon Shimoda was born on the west coast of the United States. His most recent books include O Bon (Litmus Press), The Pines: Bubble (with four friends from childhood) and The Girl Without Arms (Black Ocean). He has lived most recently in the woods of New England and a container port city in East Asia, though is currently living in the desert Southwest.