“That's my dog back there choking.”

after Deb Olin Unferth

Walk the logic of your miniature racetrack.
Cut it out and stick it to your wall.

The horse is waiting for you
to fill the trough, to call it part of you.

Fill your mind with elephant love poems
until your spark is a hollow tree.

Most people don't deal
with the river. Deal with the river.

It's often useful to have a fan in the background
clamped to the cat.

Write a novel in one sentence
about how a terrible song can offer sound advice.

Listen to the stuck.
The circus adds tattoos, temporary and loose.

Each time you encounter disruption
ask why is he allowed?

Instead of reading documents, talk
to documents about God.

"That's my dog back there choking."
Eat the first page, get a plate.

The book you're writing is transcribing for you. It is new.
It is the end of the ghost in your brain.

Benjamin Niespodziany is a Chicago-based writer whose work has appeared in Fence, Puerto del Sol, BOOTH, Salt Hill, Sixth Finch, & elsewhere. A former Olive Garden waiter, his debut collection of poetry was released last November through Okay Donkey Press, & his forthcoming novella will be out with X-R-A-Y later this year.