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Across the Boss's Desk

Chris Hosea


                                                rub your glass
periscope dancer

that’s there isn’t

see here
                                     there her

say it      rains musty crush

gold box flakes
                                                say “sir” end under

leaves wet roofs a pension

locked-in tuna pen-

chant hello we getting tight

            I do not know you spooky person

                                     just another real word
                                     just ice for numb
                                     rest perfect man
                                     nurse woes
                                     drop fans

down down well back a way we go

plinks on robot knee

who says I      don’t have feelings
                                     I have plenty

            me me

babble about
swim in

you are, like, a hurricane

one beard brags is
another straight      cut
our    ruler    torn

marking the limit
so seriously a few      inch

messes of lines
no need to write      a notice though
is it not beautiful when children do it


set froze features to heat
stars moving means     they are     satellites of somewhere

adjusting the dust

                                     plug artificial firings

laptops in other zooms
                                     credits relax you are expecting
                                                                                       sequences of circles
cant now reaches permanent bits
brightening sides of                  buses
pressing pleasing                       colors
                                     the glimpse we hear gather
massy smudges

sum it up for you
lots of nights lost

there is not a reason:
                                     not one single reason

this time being called forth
to be entitled and allowed

to travel the globe
never to pin
                       just one little thought in any one head

jotting down costs
names hotels towns
brands                                 of milk

later what comes tumbling down
over lips in after years


cut like a wedge into the cotillion punch, sour
swollen chin add freckles to that
examination in a glass the light alters
whole days could strand new saints

some joke about Poles
some girls in Poland
bright tape rewinding past magnetic Marguerites
making yourself up in an antiqued mirror

today another Stones show
plots dug in the street again dug in as in dug

a little more past where we two live

once more sad summer             is said    is said

to be a meaningful         shade
to coat    bricks

in blood printer’s devil
pirate’s booty dry mouth
Rough Guide to Las Vegas 2009
not your fault that
each sits in her way
painted fully

frame one in plastic bric-a-brac which way to be flexible
artists jamming
fish-infested seas
going to seed
in working bands
great-hearted men who meet the drink


one popular adjective ushering
off a tenor

I’ve got something
speech speech

ringing again

and after climax of
whanging harem hammers

hammering on
the neighbor’s baby grand
            a mad cry of freedom


where the cobbler stops we raise our cups

rough grain gets on allover
lumber about crazed
foam bells starting to break

a startling question
remember about lemmings
the new girl’s    smock poses

                                                               her sorrowful eyes
we each can’t fit in a period
silently barkeep
kick us out into tonight

still spaces to litter with crushed shells

homeless persons or if you prefer hermits

T. S. Eliot might watercolor
Sundays all his life though in peanut colors

his greatest maxim:
keep it to yourself


spar for prose
seeing us trellised
in thorny stereo no
            roses guns
shh this is uplifting objects
you can move things
just by thinking hello stuff stuff

today I will share
happy to be here happy to be there

someone read the minutes

all answer it’s hard
these choice choices scrambled

emoticon victim you

me too, dizzy:
                                                not to show it

spinning more, keep on turning
ditto machine purple
ditto ditto ditto ditto
ditto ditto ditto ditto


it took authority to write it down
a committee to make it into a pile
and maintenance to screw the plaque to the wall

the exam samples are you afraid

when building sets for Polanski

open the guide for in-flight TV
so your thumb lies on Ben Hur


linens and things

                                                           things and linens

where does it end

the most beautiful birdsong I’ve heard

continues when lightbulbs come on

I read your blog

this morning you call our role

a spaghetti western dish

wiping ointments discreetly in train cars

can you just pick this up and turn it on
learning separated by equals signs

wanting a new engine
black letter the word caboose


he here who is poorer than Richard
down to the wire marathon

keep us breathing
to tell less what we see through than why

this act of shredding pretending to be
illustrated step by step
figure one: jambs and knobs

now there gates there gates now
whisper the air melody air the whisper
couldn’t you couldn’t
you try to explain to try you

drink it all up
fall down in the muck
look at the leafy there
ascertain its color and walk away

classified men

tell you this our
nothing else rodeo


getting references starts to get even
mister manners so at home
think importunate look-up
glimpse calm in the iris
just ice can you lick it
better digest the room twice wanting
a do-over liking your air
terrible with money flinch
could it you be friend to the end friend me one credit
please thank you come again oh please


more prosy Saturdays flipping off the calendar
winging away into the wind
characters get older
font dry as the steward’s eye

pure corn trashed
pure corn fuel scheme
pure corn oiled guns
pure corn hatred nut
pure corn sunset tongue
pure corn pet spider
pure corn bland wash
pure corn tattoo shop
pure corn inspected ham
pure corn sashimi
pure corn convention event
pure corn tortilla


listen to tumblers here now
feel the safeness get up close

lift grain-colored highballs face
trouble puddles well in corneas’ guts

oh disapproval palms
hearts can’t eat out on this date

could this place serve what we need
if we knew what we needed

this review was funny three helpful two
obnoxious one, pass the gavel

put a hotel on the boardwalk
and a cap on the baloney bellboy


once on this train why would I get off
really not knowing anything

breathing through a tube

fierce ruth after seven-elevens go dark

danger boys retire all smokes

when to my confessions booths slam shut no

matter too rough till morning test stop
the emergency reggae broadcast system stop

sleeping strange couches smell of man
how I remember grad school

would you call your mother a mutt
your country yeah just once in a long while

a cocky bastard voice in the skull
make me a man signing words not indifferent

clasp hands you couldn’t make us
singing when the shower stops