Concord & Merrimack

Michael D. Snediker


Interview is acres. That clouded adverb enough in the 
elastic furlong of our disacquaintance. Pollen eleison 

a bank done in by
pencil to acknowledge mesh. 


To continually put off becoming leaves me bare & charred, 

my benighted posture bellowing
for the boy’s little tetanus 
of oracle.

I want a clover & have just clover to offer. 

You called me wayward, coming to the conclusion,

up these stems. 


My Sitwell birch pronounced as cannon, deathless as 
Emerson’s “squirrel.” 

Five eggs on the sill & little wells dug but never filled 
appease the retiring bell’s pink errancies, the stain
in psalm.


A tree of vapor filled to the brim. The vertical 
fugue alone, by inundating

Heady with delinquency I crossed 

lilac to ward off wax doll scholars, a summer
dog noting down the sky with tongs. 

A watch-case, a fortune-teller. 

The celibacy 
of scry. 


A bureaucratic child redacts his fort. 

Half-mast flag of chrysoprase, its crest 

of Gabriel weaned from
the gaslight. 

Everything within sight, within reason, 
for hastening away. 


Clothe me with extreme goliath in 
the estuarial fade. 

To say the emblem. A lower elm circumference
milk-eared in prose, cumbering perish 

whittled to a key.


An onyx finger in a museum of salt took fire.
& the fires, elf of rapture, begin again 
on a flocked shelf.  

The graver gaps in our knowledge of quill 
underlit those habits 

of Roman dogs least preserved in 
endocarp. Anonymously requited,

scratched in passing. A watery
stone as viewed from 
the rafters.